


you must be somewhere in london

by shinelikemillions91



Category: The 1975 (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Drug Use, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mentions of Abusive Relationships, Swearing, based off the movie weekend, george is a lifeguard, matty works in an art gallery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:55:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23738707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinelikemillions91/pseuds/shinelikemillions91
Summary: George and Matty hook up for a one night stand, but end up spending the weekend together.Based off the movie 'Weekend.'
Relationships: George Daniel/Matthew Healy
Comments: 37
Kudos: 95





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back on my bullshit again! It's been nearly a year since I posted my first ever chaptered fic on here, so I'm excited to be back at it! :)
> 
> I re-watched the movie 'Weekend' the other day and I was inspired to turn it into a fic with my favourite boys. I hope I can do it justice because the movie is stunning and I definitely recommend it.
> 
> Please let me know what you think, stay safe babies xx

The music is far too loud for George’s liking, and he regrets his decision to come to this stupid gay bar as soon as he steps foot inside. Some mindless EDM is playing and it’s already pounding its way through George’s temples as he makes his way over to the thankfully not overly crowded bar.

It’s a Friday night, and he’s not entirely sure why he’s even come, he’d been round Jamie’s for a barbeque and a couple of drinks with mates, and he’d been hit with such an intense wave of melancholy that he just had to get out of there. It’s not that he begrudges his friends happiness or anything, nothing like that at all, it’s just that being surrounded by happy couples makes George feel so overwhelmingly lonely that sometimes he just has to distance himself just a little bit. George’s best friend Jamie understands completely, and when George had bade his farewell just half an hour earlier, Jamie had given him a concerned and knowing look. But the thing is, Jamie can’t truly understand, he’s been happily married for four years to his teenage sweetheart Jo, and their daughter, George’s goddaughter Olivia is just about to turn 3, so he has no idea how suffocating true loneliness can be, even though he tells George that he ‘gets it.’ Jamie is also the only other person on the planet, (aside from George’s occasional hookups) that has any idea about George’s sexual preference for men, which is fine by George, he prefers to be known as the proverbial bachelor, it’s just easier that way.

‘Whisky and soda, mate, cheers,’ George says to the barman, leaning against the bar, taking in his surroundings, and suddenly he feels far older than his twenty-six years. The majority of the guys here are probably in their early twenties at the oldest, and it makes the weight in George’s chest feel even heavier, because he thinks that picking up some twink would make him feel worse in this scenario rather than better.

The barman slides George’s drink towards him, and George hands over a fiver, telling him to keep the change as he extricates himself away from the sticky bar, slowly sipping his drink as the song changes into something a little more sultry. He idly notices a guy leaning against the wall to his left, he’s got a glass of red wine in his hand and George decides he looks a little older than everyone else, more towards George’s age which makes him feel a little bit better about himself. The stranger with the glass of wine is wearing tartan trousers, black shirt and leather jacket, his head is a mess of dark curls which obscure most of his face, George gets the feeling that the guy has been staring at him for a while now.

George downs his drink and is quickly up at the bar for another one, chasing the numbing buzz that makes him forget about everything for a little while, he can’t stand these places while sober. Though he’s trying to be vaguely sensible as he has work tomorrow morning at 11am, and he’s pretty sure a hungover lifeguard is highly unacceptable. He orders a double this time, glancing to the side, this time catching the eye of the red wine guy, his glass is depleted now and he’s slowly swaying his hips to the music, George is hypnotised by the movement, so much so that the barman has to tap him on the arm to remind him to pay for his drink. When George turns back to his previous vantage point he just catches the stranger with the wine pushing through the growing throng of people towards the toilets. 

He downs his drink in one go this time, putting his glass down at the bar. George is starting to feel the buzz now, he can physically feel his body loosening up, even the previous pounding in his temples has started to lessen. He moves towards the toilets himself, not entirely sure why he’s being drawn to this stranger, this never happens when he comes here, but George is intrigued so he follows his instincts as he pushes past the dancing bodies. 

The bathroom is mercifully quiet and George spots him immediately, he’s standing at the urinals and George can feel his heart rate speeding up because he’s hit with a jolt of arousal, a hint of the impossible, that anything could happen, and it’s so juxtaposed against his mundane everyday life that it makes George feel lighter than air as he moves towards the urinals, and the other man.

He sidles up beside him and slowly unzips his jeans, he does actually need to piss, it would be a bit weird if he just came here to stare at the other man. The stranger’s eyes are staring directly at the tiles so George allows his eyes to travel lower towards the man’s crotch, and his face heats up as he admires the slender fingers of the man next to him, his fingernails are painted black but they’re chipped like he’s been biting them.

‘Can I help you?’ 

The voice jolts George out of his daydream and he coughs, aware that his face is flushing, the other man is looking at him and George catches a glimpse of dark eyes, heavily lined with eyeliner, combined with his slightly wine stained lips, it’s a fucking sinful look.

‘Nah, you’re good mate,’ George says quickly, shaking once before tucking himself back into his boxers and zipping up.

**

It’s roughly an hour later and George is leaning against the bar, some pretty young thing with bleached blonde hair plastered against his side. George hasn’t seen the beautiful stranger since his embarrassing moment in the bathroom, and he doesn’t really know how to feel about that, however the blonde boy who George is pretty sure is called Dylan is doing a pretty good job at distracting him. Dylan’s hand is pressed against George’s hip, and his lips keep brushing over George’s neck as he talks nonsense over the loud music, it’s been nearly a month since George has picked anyone up, so honestly at this point, any attention is welcome. George’s eyes slip shut as he feels Dylan’s lips and teeth scrape over the skin on his neck, and his body sways a little to the music, he feels weightless as his fingers run slightly below the waistband of Dylan’s stupidly tight jeans.

‘You’re so fit,’ Dylan’s voice penetrates George’s hazy mind and he opens his heavy lidded eyes to see his stranger standing a few feet away, leaning against the wall with his hip cocked, and his wine glass replenished, his eyes boring into George, making him feel naked and exposed.

‘Sorry, love,’ George sighs, pulling away from Dylan a little, the dark eyed stranger keeps his eyes locked on George’s as he takes a sip of his wine, and George watches the way his Adam’s apple bobs slowly. His limbs feel almost alien as he makes his way over to the stranger, all thoughts of Dylan now erased from George’s fuzzy mind.

‘You’ve been staring at me all evening,’ George declares loudly over the music, he leans back against the wall, his shoulder brushing against the shorter man’s a little.

‘That’s because you’re by far the most interesting person in the room,’ the stranger states boldly, shrugging his shoulders, taking a deep drink of his wine.

George giggles a little and tips his head back, the room shifting as he does so, and he realises that he’s a lot more drunk than he initially thought.

‘What’s your name?’ The stranger asks, looking up at George inquisitively, he has the wine glass pressed to his mouth and George can see the way his tongue is licking slowly along the rim on the inside.

‘George, yours?’

‘Nice to meet you, George, I’m Matty… do you want to get out of this shit hole?’

 _Matty._ The name suits him, a bit messy, arty even. Matty looks like he’s barely making an effort and yet he’s still utterly captivating under the dim lights.

‘Um, yeah… sure,’ the words spilling from his mouth before he can stop himself and Matty laughs a little, necking the rest of his wine with a glint in his eye.

‘Don’t think me over eager or anything… just thought you might want to get away from that twink you were with who won’t stop glaring at us.’

George snorts and nods, his fingers are itching to run through Matty’s hair, and a fleeting thought crosses as mind about what it would be like to pull on it while he’s fucking Matty senseless.

‘My place is only about ten minutes away,’ George finds himself saying, taking himself by surprise because he’s never taken a guy back to his place before, but something about Matty makes George want to take his time, he’s far too beautiful to be simply rendered as a five minute forgettable fuck in a dirty toilet.

‘Lead the way,’ Matty smirks and George doesn’t need telling twice, he feels Matty slip his hand into his and it makes George’s stomach twist with something he can’t his finger on because his hookups never normally extend their affections to an act so basic as hand holding.

George pushes his way through the throng of bodies, Matty following him close behind. Once they’re outside George lets out a low, slow breath, the warm summer air settling on his overheated skin. He’s about to ask Matty if they can wait for a second so he can light a cigarette but he’s surprised to see Matty doing exactly that.

‘You want one?’ Matty asks, holding his pack out to George who takes one gratefully, giving the shorter man a small smile.

‘Cheers.’

Matty lights it for him and they both settle against the wall, the music from the bar still reverberating from the open door.

‘I’ve never seen you here before,’ George states inquisitively, indicating back towards the bar, slowly exhaling smoke into the warm night, he relishes the burn in his lungs and it sobers him up a little. He looks over to Matty whose head is tilted upwards, and it’s times like these that George wishes he didn’t live in London, you can never properly see the stars.

‘Relatively newly single,’ Matty says, but doesn’t elaborate further so George just nods, getting the impression that Matty probably doesn’t want any talk of exes when they’re about to go home and fuck most likely.

‘You haven’t missed much,’ George scoffs before taking another drag. ‘It’s a fucking dive.’

Matty giggles which makes something bubble up inside George because he realises it’s the first time he’s seen him smile since they locked eyes a few hours ago.

‘Wanna start walking?’

Matty nods and they start to slowly meander through the fairly empty streets, London is never truly quiet either, another thing that George hates.

‘If it’s so shit then why do you go?’

‘Convenient I guess, drinks are cheap… I just always feel a bit out of place.’

‘I noticed you immediately,’ Matty is smirking up at George and George blushes.

‘I hope that’s a good thing?’

‘Well, I mean you’re pretty tall so that was the first thing… but you don’t seem like some cocky little twink, or even worse, a straight person that likes to think they’re really progressive because they spend time in a gay bar,’ Matty scoffs.

George thinks that’s a slightly over-critical evaluation of people who generally just came out to have a good time, even though the bar was admittedly pretty shit, but he stays silent as they walk. George is happy that the silence doesn’t feel awkward, neither of them feeling the need to fill it.

‘This is me,’ George explains as they reach George’s block of flats. ‘I’m on the fourteenth floor, and the lift is a bit dodgy so I’m sorry in advance if we have to walk up,’ George laughs nervously, he realises a little too late that his flat is a complete tip because he hadn’t exactly planned on bringing someone home tonight. George never has guests.

‘No worries, mate, lift in my block is always on the blink.’

Thankfully the lift is working and as George presses the button for the fourteenth floor Matty presses himself up against George’s side, and George can feel his heart rate increase because he always gets stupidly nervous before anything like this, however, Matty has his hand resting on George’s hip, his thumb stroking slowly over the fabric as they wait to reach George’s floor.

George’s hand is shaking a little as he fumbles with the key to his front door, a mixture of anticipation, nerves and booze making him an uncoordinated mess. Matty is giggling, pressed up against his back as he finally gets the key in the lock, they stumble in together and George is laughing now too because Matty laugh is a bit stupid but also incredibly infectious. George kicks the door shut with his foot, it rattles in the frame and he winces because his neighbour’s aren’t going to be happy with him for that one.

‘This is me,’ George repeats but he instantly regrets it because that’s exactly what he’d said outside.

‘You already said that,’ Matty laughs, and suddenly the smaller man has him pressed against the door, his fingers already going for George’s belt buckle and George hardly has time to think. Matty is already panting a little like he’s desperate to get his mouth on George, not that he minds because it’s been a while since he’s had is cock sucked, and Matty’s mouth looks like it's _made_ for sucking cock.

Matty sinks down to his knees and George is already half hard without even being touched.

‘Oh, hello,’ Matty all but purrs as he tugs George’s jeans down to get a glimpse of George’s cock straining a little against his boxers. It makes George flush and squirm a little under Matty’s gaze.

Matty leans in and runs his tongue along the outline of George’s cock, wetting the clinging material and making George hiss. His fingers deftly slide George’s underwear down his thighs so that his cock bobs upwards, now fully hard. Matty looks up at George then, his eyes dark with want before they slip shut and he runs the flat of his tongue all the way from George’s balls up to the tip of his cock. George feels his knees weaken a little because _fuck_ that feels so good that his skin erupts into goosebumps.

George’s fingers find Matty’s hair and George pauses a little.

‘Is this okay?’ he asks, slowly running his fingers through the dark curls, his tongue feels heavy in his mouth and his cock is throbbing as Matty nods, repeating his previous action. This causes George to yank harder than he meant to on Matty’s hair, however, the low moan that erupts from Matty’s mouth tells George all he needs to know about what Matty likes.

Matty wraps his slender fingers around the base of George’s cock before swallowing the rest of him down slowly. George lets out a weak noise and he instantly feels all tension leave his body because Matty’s mouth is so wet and warm, and his tongue is rubbing on the underside of George’s cock perfectly. George can just about see that Matty’s mouth is stretched wide around his cock, his hair obscuring the view a little but George doesn’t care because this is just what he needed, even if he didn’t know it.

‘Matty,’ George sighs, liking the way the other man’s name sounds on his lips, he tugs a little on Matty’s hair, urging the other man closer and Matty just keeps swallowing around George’s cock like he’s hungry for it, and it’s Matty’s enthusiasm that has the familiar warmth growing in George’s belly far sooner than he would have liked.

‘I’m close, fuck…’ George gasps out, his thighs tensing and his grip on Matty’s hair instinctively tightening, and if it hurts Matty he doesn’t make any indication of this. Instead, Matty’s hands slide round the back of George’s thighs, his fingers grasping at George’s arse, parting his cheeks a little, a dry finger rubbing over George’s hole. 

George comes with a loud shout without warning, his eyes slipping shut and his hips jerking forwards, Matty’s nails digging into the skin of George’s arse as he swallows George’s release. George has to force himself to open his eyes as Matty slowly pulls off George’s cock, his eyes are watering and there’s come and saliva dripping down the corners of Matty’s mouth.

Matty wipes at the corners of his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, his pupils are blown and George sees that Matty is hard in his jeans just from sucking George off. George awkwardly kicks his boxers and jeans off his ankles, his legs a little wobbly. Matty gets up off the floor and George instantly pulls Matty towards him, slotting their mouths together as George attempts to lick the taste of his release from Matty’s tongue.

Matty is immediately responsive, shrugging off his leather jacket and letting it drop to the floor as they kiss like they’re dying for it, Matty’s breathing coming in short staccatos against George’s lips.

‘Bedroom,’ George pants, tugging Matty with him, his fingers trying to unbutton Matty’s shirt as they stumble together into George’s bedroom, and George briefly thinks that he’s really glad he made his bed this morning.

George pushes Matty backwards onto the mattress and Matty seems to expect it because he catches himself, leaning up on his elbows and gazing up at George. His eyeliner is running down his face, his mouth is puffy and swollen, and George thinks in that moment that he’s never seen anyone as fucking stunning as this man laying on his bed, hard for him, wanting him.

George discards his shirt and jacket, naked now and kneeling next to Matty on the bed as Matty undoes his shirt quickly. George leans forward and presses the heel of his palm against Matty’s straining erection.

‘Fuck,’ Matty whines, pushing his hips up as he tosses his shirt on the floor to reveal his chest and arms, covered in ink.

George leans down immediately and runs his tongue slowly over Matty’s chest tattoo, his fingers slowly scratching down Matty’s slender sides and down to his jutting hip bones.

‘You’re gorgeous,’ George says his lips still brushing over Matty’s soft skin, almost reverently, because he can’t remember sex with a stranger ever being like this before. George is used to quick fucks in public places, not having someone spread out on his bed like this, all pliant and wanting.

Matty just moans and George takes the hint, his fingers going to the button on Matty’s trousers and tugging them down quickly along with his boxers. Matty is far from small himself and George leans down and spits on Matty’s cock before wrapping a firm fist around him.

‘Ohhhh,’ Matty groans, tilting his head back, still propped up on his elbows so George can see the long elegant lines of Matty’s neck.

He pumps Matty slowly, mesmerised by watching the beads of pre-come glisten on the tip of Matty’s cock. He sees Matty slowly open his eyes and their eyes meet and George thinks he can feel sparks between them, George is also aware that sounds cheesy as fuck, so he dismisses the thought quickly. 

George is already hard again just from watching how responsive Matty is, how his hips twitch, how he tosses his hair backwards off his face, the way he keeps running his tongue over his bottom lip, almost like a nervous habit.

‘You’re so fucking hot,’ George blurts out, flicking his thumb over the tip of Matty’s cock, smearing the pre-come then bringing his thumb to his mouth and sucking slowly, not breaking eye contact with Matty for one second.

Matty moans weakly and suddenly he’s coming all over George’s hand and his own stomach. He collapses back onto the pillow, his arms giving way from holding himself up, his back arching. George immediately crowds Matty against the bed, pressing his face into Matty’s damp neck as he rubs his cock through the mess on Matty’s stomach, the slide and drag of skin on skin is delicious and George spills all over Matty’s stomach a few moments later, his body shuddering from his release.

‘Jesus,’ Matty pants as George rolls off him to collapse next to him, his own breathing coming out in short bursts.

‘Yeah, George sighs, wiping a hand over his sweaty forehead before grabbing his discarded shirt from earlier, wiping the come from his own chest and Matty’s, a sudden wave of exhaustion comes over him. He tosses the shirt back on the floor, his eyes slipping shut, he can feel himself drifting off but Matty’s voice jerks him awake.

‘Is it okay if I stay… don’t fancy trying to get back to Shoreditch at this time of night...’

‘Course,’ George muffles, dragging the covers over them, his limbs and his head feeling heavy with sleep and satisfaction. He feels Matty shift next to him, and he vaguely thinks he can hear Matty say something else, but sleep engulfs him before he can register what it is.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the night before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Too Shy day! I was going to wait until the weekend to post this but it's written so I thought I might as well post it :)
> 
> I hope you're all keeping safe, thank you to everyone who's commented and left kudos, I love you all!

George slowly feels consciousness return to him slowly then all at once, his eyes twitching at the onslaught of the morning sun shining on his face. His head is aching and for a few seconds he struggles to remember why he feels like he’s dying ever so slightly, but then it all floods back. The bar, picking up Matty and bringing him back, receiving possibly the best blowjob of his life pressed up against his front door…

He glances to his side to find that Matty is still out cold, his hair is splayed over the pillow, a beautiful contrast of dark on light, his eyelids are flickering and his eyes are smudged, a hand is outstretched towards George. He chuckles quietly to himself as he carefully slides out of bed, trying his best not to wake the sleeping man. George has never shared a bed with another person, but he’s not an animal, he knows the etiquette for these things, even if he’s never practised them before.

Padding slowly through his quiet flat George feels in a suspiciously good mood, the itch that he couldn’t quite scratch for the last few days has dissipated, and there’s a beautiful man currently lying in his bed. The aching tug of loneliness that had plagued George yesterday evening while he’d been at Jamie’s has been temporarily quashed which he’s incredibly glad for because he hates those moods he gets in sometimes, they can take days to disappear and George just goes through life in a haze. He wakes up, he goes to work, comes home, eats dinner, gets high, then usually passes out on his sofa, he doesn’t talk to anyone, and this usually continues until he gets a text from Jamie inviting him over for takeaway, or out for a beer at their local.

George grabs his discarded jeans from last night and pulls out his phone from the back pocket, it’s just gone 9am so he has a little bit of time before work, he even thinks his hangover might have shifted a little by then. He grabs yesterday’s boxers from the floor and pulls them on as he heads into his living room, throwing open the window to let in some air, aware that his flat always has that slightly funky smell of weed because no matter how much air freshener he sprays it never seems to go away. He pauses at the window and gazes out at the London landscape, the only perk about living on the fourteenth floor of a high rise block of flats is that the views are spectacular, especially at sunset. Hackney isn’t the prettiest part of London by far, but it’s been home to George his whole life, and he wouldn’t change it, not really. The sun is already high in the sky and promises another hot July day which is also doing wonders for George’s mood.

Reaching the kitchen, George puts the kettle on and grabs two mugs. He has no idea if Matty is a tea or coffee guy but he decides on coffee because that’s what he’s having. George wishes he had slightly fancier coffee other than shitty instant stuff, but he decides that Matty doesn’t seem really like the type to care about what brand of coffee George uses. Cursing George realises that he’d meant to pick up a loaf of bread yesterday, so he can’t offer Matty breakfast, so coffee will have to do for now. He adds the boiling water, a splash of milk and one sugar for good measure before taking them back to his bedroom.

George is surprised and a little pleased to see that Matty is awake when he enters his bedroom, closing the door behind him with his bum for lack of a free hand. Matty is sitting up with his head propped up on the pillow and he’s smiling over at George, his lips quirked upwards.

‘What a wonderful host you are, George.’

George carefully hands the mug of coffee over, precariously balancing on one knee on the bed before settling himself down cross-legged facing the other man. George sips his coffee, not sure whether he should divulge the fact that Matty is literally the first guy he’s ever had back to his flat before.

‘I aim to please,’ he shrugs his shoulders.

‘I’m sure,’ Matty laughs, taking a sip of his coffee. ‘Oooh, how did you know how I like it? Is psychic ability on your list of talents too?’

‘It’s how I like it,’ George smiles, he feels a little awkward, possibly because he senses that Matty’s ability to be comfortable in this scenario indicates that he’s probably done this many times, not phased at all by waking up alone in a stranger’s bed.

‘So… what is it that you do, George?’ His voice sounds teasing but George gets the impression that it’s just what Matty is like, he’s not taking the piss or anything.

‘I’m a lifeguard actually.’

Matty’s eyebrows shoot up and he looks genuinely impressed. ‘That’s fucking cool, man.’

George goes slightly flushed and looks down at his cup of coffee, no one has ever reacted like that before when he’s told people what he does for a job.

‘Yeah… at the leisure centre just down the road, been there since I left school… I used to swim for my school in competitions and stuff so I just never really stopped.’

‘Have you ever saved anyone’s life?’ Matty asks, he looks so interested in the potential answer, and he sips his coffee but his eyes don’t leave George’s for a second.

‘A few times, yeah,’ George admits, placing his now empty mug on his dresser. ‘I mean… it’s pretty much the whole point of the job after all.’

‘Fuck,’ Matty says slowly, elongating the vowels as he looks over at George. ‘That’s sick.. Like how many people can actually say that they've saved someone’s life and mean it?’

George laughs softly, flattered that Matty is so enthralled by what he has to say, he never really considered it anything that special but he supposes from an outsider’s perspective, it could be. He shifts and moves so he’s sitting next to Matty, sliding his legs under the covers, the previous position making him feel weird, almost like they were doing a weird interview rather than a casual chat about what they did for a living.

‘What do you do?’ George asks, noting how Matty moves imperceptibly so that their thighs are touching under the covers.

‘I help manage a small art gallery with my friend Harry actually… in Soho,’ Matty snorts, shaking his head. ‘That makes me sound like a pretentious cunt, and it’s definitely not as cool as your thing, but yeah, been there a few years now, it’s alright.’

George can’t help but grin because his initail impression of Matty being arty had been fucking spot on after all.

‘Why are you grinning like that?’ Matty asks curiously after swallowing down the dregs of his coffee, the sunlight shining into his face making him squint slightly up at George. George fleetingly thinks Matty looks beautiful, but dispels the idea because endearing thoughts about one night stands are a bad idea. 

‘Last night at the bar I… uhhh, I remember thinking you looked like an arty kinda guy… like kinda messy but effortless. And I was right.’

Matty giggles and claps his hands together. ‘Was it the tartan trousers? I bet it was! Was it?’

‘A little bit,’ George snorts. ‘They looked good on you though… it wasn’t a criticism or anything… also the eye make up, very Boy George.’

‘Good,’ Matty says smugly, and then in almost the same breath he says. ‘So... are you ready for round two?’

He says it so casually that George is taken aback, he _knows_ that this definitely isn’t how it ususally goes, however, Matty is impossibly attractive and George would be a fucking fool to kick him out any earlier than he needs to. Though this doesn’t stop the irritatingly sensible voice in his head from blurting out loud, ‘I have work at 11.’

‘We’ll have to make this quick then,’ Matty all but purrs, maneuvering himself with agility into George’s lap. 

George’s response is swallowed by Matty’s lips covering his own, Matty’s fingers sliding slowly up his jaw to cup his face as they kiss. He tastes of coffee and slightly of morning breath but George doesn’t mind, aware that he probably tastes exactly the same. George’s eyes slip shut and he allows himself to enjoy the languid way in which Matty is kissing him, none of the urgency of last night, and he finds his fingers slowly running up and down Matty’s spine, feeling the way his vertebrae jut out a little under the pads of George’s fingers. It makes Matty let out soft sighs into George’s mouth so he continues, caressing the soft, warm skin. George is distantly aware that he can feel the weight of Matty’s cock rubbing slightly against his stomach, and his own cock twitches in his boxers.

‘You’re even prettier this morning than you were last night,’ Matty says in a low voice as he breaks away from the kiss. George flushes heavily under Matty’s persistent gaze, looking up at the smaller man with something akin to wonder on his face because Matty is truly gorgeous. George thinks he must be getting soppy in his old age.

‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ George says with a quirk of the eyebrow, letting his fingers trail down to Matty’s arse, his hands smoothing over the soft skin there before squeezing tightly. Matty gasps a little and presses his face into George’s neck, his lips locating George’s juddering pulse and starting to suck slowly.

‘Oh, shit,’ George moans, his now fully hard cock straining at the waistband of his boxers. He so desperately wants to feel Matty’s cock drag deliciously against his own so he wriggles a little to try and get his boxers down. Matty cottons on to what George is trying to do so he lifts up a little to allow George to finally free himself of the restricting fabric.

‘Much better,’ Matty grins and he places his hands on George’s shoulders, moving slowly forward so their cocks drag against each other. George bucks a little and lets out a sigh, tipping his head back because Matty seems content to do all the work here and that’s totally fine by him. 

‘Feels good,’ George moans which makes Matty moan in response. George lifts his head slightly so he can watch Matty who has his bottom lip bitten between his teeth as he slowly grinds his hips. The friction is a little too dry for George’s liking, and it’s as if Matty can read his mind because suddenly Matty is spitting into the palm of his hand and wrapping it around both their cocks at the same time. The slick drag feels fucking incredible, and George feels his balls tightening already at the sensation.

George wraps a hand around the back of Matty’s neck and pulls him in for a bruising kiss, Matty whines against George’s lips, his hand stilling as if he’s forgotten how to do anything other than throw everything he has into the kiss. George bites down harshly on Matty’s bottom lip, he then sucks slowly, loving the way Matty’s eyes slip shut in pleasure.

‘Fuck, George,’ Matty groans, his fist finding their cocks once more, and he starts to stroke quickly while George licks inside Matty’s mouth, his lips slick with spit. George is momentarily struck with an image from the previous night, Matty kneeling in front of him, his mouth wet with spit and George’s come, and it makes George shudder, sweat starting to bead on his overheating skin.

‘Shit,’ George growls, the sound coming out as a low rumble from deep inside his chest. He drags his fingers down Matty’s back once more, his nails scraping over damp skin as he feels Matty’s thumb swipe slowly over the tip of his cock.

George feels almost dizzy from arousal and before he can second guess what he’s about to do, he brings a hand up to Matty’s swollen mouth and runs a finger over his bottom lip. Matty seems to understand what’s required of him instantly, opening his mouth and allowing George to slip two fingers inside his hot, wet mouth. He sucks slowly, running his tongue slowly between the v of George’s fingers, and it takes all of George’s self-restraint not to throw Matty down on the bed and fuck him until he’s begging.

George removes his fingers from Matty’s mouth with an almost obscene pop, Matty’s eyes are glinting with something dangerous, like he knows what George is about to do without George needing to say a single word. George lets his wet fingers drag slowly over the skin of Matty’s arse and George almost feels like his heart is jackknifing in his ribcage with the effort to go slowly, all for Matty’s benefit. He slowly rubs one finger over Matty’s hole, and as he does so he feels Matty’s grip on their cocks tighten. Matty lets out a whine as George circles the tight ring of muscle with one finger.

‘Oh God,’ Matty pants, pressing his damp forehead against George’s, and George takes this as a green signal to slowly slide one finger inside Matty’s tight little body, relishing the noises that slip from Matty’s lips, his breath ghosting over George’s lips. It’s intimate and so fucking hot that George feels that warm, familiar building sensation start in his toes, slowly working it’s way up his body.

‘More,’ Matty whispers so George complies, adding a second finger. The sensation of Matty’s tightness around his fingers is enough to make George groan because he’s so tight he can’t begin to imagine how fucking incredible Matty would feel around his cock, clenching, and squeezing, driving George crazy with the sensation.

‘You’re so tight,’ George murmurs, curling his fingers inside Matty’s warmth. Matty’s hips jerk and he starts to fist their cocks together with an urgency that George didn’t know he needed because his entire body is thrumming with heat, and he didn’t know how badly he needed to come until now.

‘I’m gonna come,’ George pants, his eyes have slipped shut but he finds Matty’s mouth blindly, kissing him messily, his fingers still thrusting in and out slowly because Matty seems to love it like that, small ‘ahs’ of pleasure emitting from his lips on every thrust.

‘George,’ Matty whimpers as George thrusts his fingers in a little harder, making Matty’s body jerk. He’s impressed that Matty has managed to keep up a rhythm with his own hand, so George does it again and that’s it for Matty. George feels Matty come against his stomach, he clenches like a vice around George’s fingers and this tips him over the edge, he shoots over Matty’s fist and his own chest, his head banging back hard against the headboard as his orgasm is wrenched out of him.

Matty falls forward against George’s chest, George gently removes his fingers and wraps his arms around the smaller man, both panting in tandem, their breaths sounding loud in contrast to the quiet flat. They stay that way for a few minutes until both of their breathing returns to normal and Matty starts to giggle quietly with his face pressed into George’s neck.

‘We’re all filthy and this room stinks of sex,’ he laughs, slowly sitting up, his hair is plastered to his forehead in cheeks, and George thinks he looks like an absolute picture, he’s beautifully dishevelled and fucked out looking, and George loves it. George just smiles lazily up at Matty, enjoying the moment, that is until he remembers work. 

‘Fuck!’ He curses and grabs his phone from the bedside table, he has less than half an hour to get showered and get to work.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘I have work… I’m going to be so fucking late.’

Matty worries his bottom lip between his teeth and climbs out of George’s lap, and George notices that his thighs are still trembling a little from the effort of holding himself up for so long. He looks guilty.

George unlocks his phone and glances over at Matty, his face and chest still flushed from his orgasm, and for the first time, he throws caution to the wind where work is concerned and taps out a quick text to his supervisor explaining that he’s sick and won’t be in today. Because if George is being honest to himself, he’s not ready to let Matty of his sight just quite yet.

‘Fuck work,’ George says, giving Matty a reassuring smile, which Matty gratefully returns.

Matty is making George feel reckless, and he likes it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matty and George get to know each other. Matty really likes making quesadillas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is slowly taking over my life and I love it.
> 
> Sorry for the slight cliffhanger at the ending.
> 
> I love you all, I hope everyone is enjoying and staying safe. 
> 
> This chapter has been fuelled by red wine and my love for the 'I like it when you sleep' album <3

George focuses on the almost scalding hot water running over his body as his eyes slip shut and he leans back slowly against the shower wall, careful to place his feet so he won’t slip, thoroughly embarrass (and probably hurt) himself.

He’d left Matty to get dressed and George can hear him moving around his flat, and upon second thoughts George feels like maybe he shouldn’t have just left Matty wandering around alone, for all he knows Matty could be robbing him blind right now. Not that George really has anything expensive to steal but that’s not the point. The only thing George owns of any worth is his TV and his old Xbox, and he assumes Matty probably doesn’t need either of these things considering he manages a fucking art gallery.

George had received a blunt ‘okay, see you monday’ text from his supervisor at work just before he had gone into the bathroom, and under normal circumstances George would have been worried, but somehow he just can’t bring himself to care now. In the eight years George has been working there, he’d taken one sick day when he had the flu one winter, so he thinks he owes himself this delicious moment of rebelliousness in light of the events that have transpired in the last twelve hours.

If someone had told George yesterday evening that he would be picking up someone like Matty and bringing him back to his flat, George would have them to fuck off, because this has never happened before. The entirety of George’s sexual experiences have been relegated to quick fucks in bathrooms, alleys and parks, as he has always been so careful to separate his sex life and his real life, never blurring the lines even once, until last night. If George is being honest with himself it’s thrown him completely off kilter.

George lets his fingers slowly massage his temples as the water streams over his body and relaxes his tense muscles, images of Matty flashing through his overworking mind because Matty seems to be the total antithesis of George, he seems so confident and at ease with himself, and is essentially everything that George isn’t. George has always been a little awkward, never truly comfortable with anyone apart from Jamie, and the only time George ever really feels relaxed is when he’s high. He’s fully aware that he doesn’t really know Matty at all, and any judgements he’s making aren’t really based on anything concrete, but there’s something about the other man that George feels magnetised to, and it’s so out of left field that he feels a little winded.

Realising he’s been standing there for a good twenty minutes, George quickly washes and shuts the water off, grabbing his towel from the rail and wrapping it around his waist. It’s already a hot day and his flat is permanently like a furnace so he doesn’t bother drying properly, the warm summer air will do that for him. As he makes his way out of the bathroom George is hit by the smell of cooking food and he furrows his brow because Matty can’t possibly be cooking in his shitty little kitchen right now, can he? 

George’s damp feet pad through into the kitchen where he stops in the doorway because he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing. Matty is standing at the cooker dressed in nothing but his boxers and a big baggy vest of George’s, he has a frying pan on the hob and whatever he’s cooking smells fucking delicious.

George clears his throat and Matty starts a little, turning around to greet George with a grin on his face which quickly turns into a small smirk as he eyes George up and down slowly. His gaze makes George shiver, despite his skin still feeling a little overheated from his shower.

‘What are you cooking?’ George asks, deciding to gloss over the fact that Matty just decided to commandeer his kitchen and food supplies.

‘Quesadillas,’ Matty grins, his eyes lingering on George for a second more before turning back to the stove. ‘I found some tortilla wraps in your cupboard, and you had some cheese and ham in the fridge.’

‘Oh…’ George trails off. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever had one of those…’

This causes Matty to gasp and whip around, gesticulating wildly with George’s spatula in his hand. ‘Oh my god, they’re so good, well… I think they’re good. I’m not the best cook but I’m okay, they’re nearly ready but I couldn’t find plates… also did you inherit all your stuff? It looks like stuff my nan would have bought in like the 70s or something.’

George has to look away to hide the grin that graces his face at Matty’s rambling, he’s also pretty certain that if anyone else had asked him that question it would have sounded rude, but Matty manages to make it casual, he talks candidly, wonderfully unfiltered, and he’s not taking the piss, he’s just curious.

‘I actually buy all my home stuff from charity shops,’ George smiles, reaching up above Matty to open the cupboard and retrieve two plates and some cutlery from the drawer near the window. He places them next to Matty on the counter before returning to his vantage point by the door, watching Matty casually flip the quesadillas with effortless ease. ‘I like the idea of people’s things going to a new home after they’re done with them, y’know?’

‘Shit really? That’s kinda cool, so… you don’t have anything new?’ Matty inquires, carefully plating up the quesadillas and handing one over to George.

George takes a seat at his tiny two person table, trying to push aside how strange it feels to have someone in his flat after all this time.

‘My bed was new, and the sheets and stuff, oh and my clothes, they’re not second hand either,’ George explains, looking pointedly at Matty who at least has the good grace to look a little sheepish as he takes a seat opposite George.

‘Sorry, yeah… it’s a bit hot for the shirt I wore last night and I just saw your vest on the floor and thought you wouldn’t mind… I’ll obviously give it back,’ Matty says in a rush, his eyes dipping down to look at his plate of food.

‘It’s cool,’ George chuckles softly, ‘I just…’ he stops, not sure if he really wants to divulge too much personal information at this point. He distracts himself by taking a bite of the quesadilla, his eyebrows raising because it’s actually really good.

‘Good?’ Matty asks through a mouthful of food, one hand going up to cover his mouth, the first tiny affectation of self-consciousness that George has seen from the other man.

George nods eagerly, quickly shovelling another mouthful in, only now realising that he’s absolutely fucking starving.

‘My ex Mikey…’ Matty starts but then trails off, his forehead creasing before he continues. ‘They were his favourite thing so I learnt to make them… my cooking repertoire extends to these, macaroni cheese, and scrambled eggs.’

‘Better than me,’ George laughs, swallowing. ‘I can boil pasta, make toast and use a microwave.’

‘All completely valid cooking skills,’ Matty says seriously, wiping the corners of his mouth, and when George snorts with laughter he watches how Matty’s eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. He feels a warmth fill his chest that he doesn’t want to focus on because one night stands are usually exempt from any warm gushing feelings that George may have, but then one night stands don’t normally hang around, wear George’s clothes, and cook in his kitchen either.

‘You’re looking at me funny, why’s that?’

‘This is just all really new to me,’ George admits, deciding to be honest with Matty, somehow knowing that Matty won’t judge him for anything he’s going to say. ‘I’ve actually never bought a hook up back to my place before… you’re the first.’

‘What? Really?’

‘Yeah… I try and keep stuff separate usually…’ George trails off, his stomach sinking a little because Matty is looking at him with an expression that he can’t place, he’s chewing slowly, his head cocked to the side a little.

‘Can I ask you a personal question?’

George nods stiffly.

‘Are you out… like to your family and friends? They know you’re gay?’

And there it is, George thinks, the question that George so desperately wanted to avoid.

‘My best mate Jamie knows,’ George clarifies, his heart thudding with anxiety because this whole scenario is just so alien. ‘I don’t have any family so no one to really tell.’

‘Oh… fuck, sorry,’ Matty says, his voice is quiet now, and he delicately places his knife and fork crossed over on the plate. ‘You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, I just assumed…’

‘I grew up in care,’ George explains quickly, eager to ease Matty’s sudden discomfort. He adjusts his towel that had started to slip down his hips a little bit. ‘Whoever my mum was she gave me up when I was born, apparently she was like fifteen or something and couldn’t look after me so I was fostered a lot, I met Jamie in one of the foster homes when I was ten… so yeah, I’ve never had to come out to anyone apart from him, and he had kinda already guessed anyway. I was like sixteen when I told him.’

Matty nods slowly, but says nothing, like he knows that George has more to say, but is slightly uncomfortable in doing so.

‘The local council got me this flat when I was eighteen and I’ve been here ever since… it’s not much, but it’s enough for me.’

This is partially the truth, George thinks as the words spill from his mouth, but what George doesn’t say is that sometimes the loneliness gets so bad that he feels crippled from it. It’s not that George doesn’t want someone, it’s that he doesn’t know how to let people in, the walls he’s built up since he was a child are still so present that the idea of becoming open to his feelings scares him so much that he settles with loneliness. He knows how to cope with loneliness, he doesn’t know how to cope with vulnerability.

Matty gives George a small smile and nods. ‘That’s cool man… whatever works for you. I’m sorry I made an assumption by the way, I’m always putting my foot in it. I have a tendency to not think before I speak.’

‘It’s fine… it’s normal to assume people are… normal, y’know?’

‘But normal is a social construct anyway,’ Matty says seriously, obviously not ready to let this go. ‘What is normal? Like normal to you might not be normal to me, and there’s no universal truth anyway so everything is based on nothing, right?’

George snorts a little bit and shakes his head. ‘That’s a bit too deep for me, mate… maybe save it until I’ve had a smoke, yeah?’

Matty barks out a laugh, looking away from George towards the window. ‘Yeah, sorry, my mates always tell me off for that too.’

George smiles and stands up, stacking his and Matty’s plates and dumping them in the sink.

‘Let me put some clothes on and then we can have a smoke, yeah?’ George suggests, hoping deep down that Matty isn’t about to suggest that he leaves, that he’s outstayed his welcome because George is enjoying Matty’s company way more than he wants to admit.

‘I mean… don’t get dressed on my part,’ Matty says, his eyes glinting and a small smirk returning to his face. ‘Although you have been wonderfully distracting the whole time, I hope you know that.’

‘You’re quite the flirt,’ George laughs. ‘But seriously, you’re making me feel underdressed in my own home, so I’m gonna put some clothes on. Back in a sec.’

George rushes into his bedroom as soon as he’s out of Matty’s sight, his heart feels lighter than air because Matty hasn’t even suggested leaving. He’s still sitting in George’s kitchen, wearing George’s clothes, and filling up the empty space that George wasn’t even aware existed until today.

He hastily pulls on a clean pair of boxers and the first baggy t-shirt he can find. It’s truly sweltering in his flat and the idea of wearing jeans is an absolute no go. George wouldn’t normally get high at lunch time on a Saturday but today is a special occasion so he grabs his stuff and makes his way back into his living room. He finds Matty transfixed by one of the few framed photos George has hanging on his wall, it’s of him holding Olivia when she’s only a few days old, her tiny little face is squished, and George is gazing down at her adoringly. One of Olivia’s tiny hands is wrapped around George’s thumb, and he recalls crying a few moments after that photo was taken because he’d been hit by such an intense wave of love for her.

‘Who’s the baby?’ Matty asks, plopping himself down rather ungracefully on George’s old leather sofa.

George settles down next to Matty on the sofa, placing his ‘druggie box’ as Jamie calls it on the battered coffee table.

‘My goddaughter Oliva,’ George says with fondness lilting his voice. ‘Jamie’s daughter.’

‘She’s cute, how old is she?’

‘She actually turns three tomorrow, I’m going to her birthday party which I’m kind of dreading a little bit,’ George admits, rolling the joint without even looking at his hands, focussing all his attention on Matty and how Matty’s thigh is pressed up against his on the small sofa.

‘Not a fan of parties I take it,’ Matty snorts.

‘Not really,’ George admits. ‘I mean don’t get me wrong, I love her to pieces but I don’t particularly want to spend my Sunday surrounded by loads of toddlers, y’know?’

‘Sounds like a nightmare, mate.’

‘Right?,’ George laughs. ‘Also all Jamie’s other mates are couples and I just always feel a bit out of place, y’know?’ 

George lights up and brings the joint to his lips slowly, inhaling deeply, and feeling instantly more relaxed, even though he’s sure that must be psychological because drugs don’t work that fast. His eyes shut and he leans back against the sofa, his skin prickling where Matty’s thigh rubs against his a little.

‘Fuck all that heteronormative bullshit,’ Matty says with a level of vehemence behind his voice that takes George by surprise. ‘It’s all so fake.’

George shrugs and passes the joint over to Matty. ‘I dunno, they all seem happy which is important… I just can’t relate to any of it which makes me feel weird, I don’t not want my friends to be happy, that’s fucked up.’

George watches smoke curl from between Matty’s lips, a slight hint of a warm breeze causing the smoke to dissipate quickly but George’s eyes travel with it towards the open window. He’s aware that Matty has been talking but he’s not been paying any attention.

‘...I only have one ‘straight’ friend, and he’s not even really that straight once you get a few pints in him.’

George turns so he’s facing Matty once more, focusing on his lips as he speaks, letting the words wash over him as he feels the high descend upon him. His dealer had warned him that this was strong stuff, and he wasn’t wrong about that one.

‘Fuck, this shit is strong,’ Matty giggles, handing the joint back to George and him marvels at how it’s like Matty was reading his mind once again.

Taking the joint George notices how Matty’s teeth are slightly crooked at the front, and how he scrunches his nose up a little bit whenever he laughs, it’s cute and entirely juxtaposed against the image that Matty tries to give off. He lets the smoke fill his lungs once more before blowing a small series of smoke rings in Matty’s direction teasingly, his head feeling swimmy and a little dazed.

‘Show off,’ Matty smirks, plucking the joint from between George’s fingers and letting it rest on the edge of the ash tray on the table. He looks over at George, the smoke making the air hazy and thick, laced with heat and something else intangible. George feels sparks between them as their eyes meet and George is far too stoned to even attempt to come up with a metaphor that doesn’t sound fucking cheesy.

‘Can I kiss you?’ Matty asks, his voice sounding almost as thick as the air surrounding them. George just nods because how can he possibly say no to his beautiful man? And before anything really properly registers in George’s mind, Matty has the palm of his hand pressing against George’s chest and pushing him back down onto the sofa.

George shifts so his head is leaning against the arm rest and Matty settles so he’s almost laying on top of George. Matty connects their mouths and George groans low in his throat almost instantly because Matty tastes _so_ good, like smoke and something else George can’t put his finger on.

‘How is your voice so low? Matty giggles against George’s lips. He has one arm braced next to George’s head, the other hand plays with a lock of George’s hair that’s fallen over his eyes.

‘Why isn’t yours?’ Georget retorts, knowing it makes absolutely no sense but going with it anyway. This causes Matty to giggle even more, their noses a little squished together as George opens his mouth so that Matty can lick into it. George wraps his arms around Matty’s smaller form, holding him close as they kiss.

They kiss like that for what seems like hours in George’s mind, there’s nothing sexual about it, they’re both too high to get it up, but it doesn’t stop them from rutting against each other slowly, eliciting small gasps and moans every so often. In George’s head kissing has always been a precursor to something else, he’s never kissed anyone just for the simple joy of kissing, and he feels like this is what he’s been missing out on. When he was a teenager all his mates were getting with girls, making out on sofas at parties, and George had always just watched from the sidelines, never really present, always an observer.

Eventually they break apart, Matty’s eyes are glazed, and his lips are swollen and shiny. Matty leans his head down on George’s chest and George finds his fingers intertwining through Matty’s messy curls.

**

They must fall asleep like that because when George’s eyes open with a start he realises that the sun is no longer streaming into his living room, the sky has clouded over like there’s a storm coming. He glances over at the clock on the wall and he’s astounded to realise that it’s gone four in the afternoon.

‘Matty,’ George mumbles, letting a hand run slowly up the back of the baggy vest he stole from George. This causes Matty to groan and stir a little, he lifts his head and George feels the absence of heat immediately, despite the warmth of the room.

‘We fell asleep,’ George says gently.

‘What’s the time?’ Matty asks, his voice sounding thick with sleep.

‘Just gone four.’

‘Shit,’ Matty curses, manoeuvring himself carefully so as to not jab George with any of his limbs as he stands up. ‘I’m out tonight and I completely forgot, I can’t show up like this!’

George’s head spins as he sits up, amazed at how Matty can go from fast asleep to wide awake just like that. Matty rushes into George’s bedroom to presumably retrieve his clothes. George runs his fingers through his hair and closes his eyes, the sense of an ending crashing down upon and settling uncomfortably in his chest.

Matty pops his head round the door into the living room, now dressed, he’s got a small smile on his face.

‘You can come tonight, if you want? I’m meeting some mates at the Old Blue Last, do you know it?’

George nods, his previous gloomy thoughts forgotten as he smiles brightly at Matty. Matty rummages around in his pocket for his wallet before pulling out a small white card, he hands it over.

‘It’s got my mobile number on it,’ Matty grins. ‘We’re meeting at 8, I’ll see you there, yeah?’

‘Of course, yeah. See you there.’

Matty ducks in the room and gives George a quick peck on the lips.

‘Later!’

George echoes the sentiment and laughs as Matty leaves, the door slamming then rattling loudly in the frame. He’s just contemplating another shower because he feels all sticky and gross from sleep when there’s a knock on his front door.

‘Hi’ Matty says breathlessly as George opens the door, he notices that the smile has disappeared from Matty’s face and that twists something inside George.

‘Ummm… yeah so about the drinks tonight, they’re actually my ‘going away’ drinks.’

George’s brow furrows in confusion. ‘Where are you going?’

‘America… LA actually.’

‘Oh, nice… I’ve never been on holiday before,’ George laughs awkwardly, unsure as to why Matty felt the need to run back and tell him this.

‘I’m… I’m not going on holiday, I’m moving there,’ Matty looks down at the floor, like he’s desperate to avoid George’s reaction, and George doesn’t quite even know how to react to this news just yet.

‘Right… okay.’

‘I’m going to art school there… it’s a two year course, but after that I don’t know what I’m gonna do.’ The words come thick and fast from Matty’s mouth, and George feels a wave of nausea wash over him, his palms becoming clammy from where they’re holding onto the door handle.

‘Wow… that’s cool, well good luck… I’ll see you tonight, you still want me to come?’

‘Of course.’

George gives Matty a smile which he knows doesn’t quite reach his eyes and Matty returns it, nodding before quickly heading back down the corridor towards the lift. 

George closes the front door slowly, his heart thudding and his mouth feeling like it’s full of cotton wool as he heads towards his bedroom. The sheets are a mess from what transpired that morning, and it’s then that George notices Matty’s shirt from last night thrown haphazardly in the corner of the room, he picks it up, running his fingers over the slightly starchy black material. He balls his fists around the shirt and focuses on breathing normally, he’s absolutely not focusing on the fact that a man he met less than twenty four hours ago has his stomach in complete knots, and that the very same man would soon be leaving his life as quickly as he entered it.

George makes his way over to his bedroom window, looking down the dizzying fourteen flights, he spots Matty’s figure, a small dark haired dot, but his garish tartan trousers still visible even from this high up. The dot stops and looks up and George moves quickly away from the window, even though it’s highly unlikely that Matty could even see him standing there staring at him.

George grabs a hanger from the box in his wardrobe and carefully hangs Matty’s shirt up.

He ignores the tremble in his fingers, and the ache in his chest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George meets Matty's friends, and learns the terrible truth about Matty's ex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I loved writing this chapter SO MUCH.
> 
> This story is stopping me from losing my mind so anyone who's left a comment or kudos, you are all angels <3
> 
> Please enjoy :))))

George is feeling jittery and anxious as he walks the short fifteen minute walk to the Old Blue Last pub. He remembers going there when he turned eighteen, went to a couple of gigs there with Jamie, and he recalls that it usually pulls quite a young crowd so he decided to go for ripped skinny jeans and a baggy floral button down. The summer evening air is close and he already feels his shirt sticking to him like a second skin, and he’s not even walking that fast. He stops and leans against a low brick wall, quickly tying his unruly hair up to stop it from plastering against his sweaty forehead, then retrieving a cigarette from the squished packet in his jeans and lighting it to calm his nerves.

The sky is dark and cloudy, the sun not quite setting yet, and George almost wishes for rain, wishes that it could break the tension, and dispel the tightness in his chest. He inhales deeply and holds it, tipping his head up towards the sky before letting it out slowly, watching the smoke dance on the still air. Since Matty left earlier George has done everything on autopilot, so desperate to not think about the implications of his feelings that he cleaned his flat from top to bottom just to distract himself. However, when stepped in the shower to cool off, he ended up with his hand wrapped around his cock, Matty’s sinful mouth imprinted on his mind. He knows logically that Matty leaving for America should mean absolutely nothing to him, but logic doesn’t stop the small part of his brain feeling so desperately sad because he thought he had felt something between them. Or maybe George is just so starved of affection that he’s latching on to the first person that’s given him something that extends further than an empty orgasm.

Letting the cigarette hang from his lips George pulls his phone out of his back pocket to see that it’s just gone eight, he didn’t want to be early or on time, better to be a tiny bit late to social gatherings, best not to appear too eager, especially in this kind of situation. Feeling considerably less sweaty than five minutes ago, George smokes as he walks towards the pub, writing a mental note to remind himself to just calm the fuck down, even though George isn’t great with new people, especially if he has to make all the effort, he’s never really been any good with small talk. 

George stubs his cigarette out with his foot and fishes his phone out once more, he can see the pub on the corner now, a hundred yards or so away. He had put Matty’s number in his phone earlier, copied down carefully from the business card he’d given him, but George hadn’t texted Matty yet, so Matty doesn’t have his number, and therefore has no way of contacting George even if he wanted to.

 **George:** Are you here yet? G

George slides his phone back in his pocket and loiters on the corner, he hears a rumble of thunder far in the distance and for some reason George welcomes it. It’s been hot for days now, and he almost misses the rain, and being perennially British George is never quite satisfied with the weather.

His phone vibrates in his back pocket and George fumbles with his phone and nearly drops it on the floor in his eagerness to read the incoming text.

 **Matty:** George? Yeah by the bar x

George takes a deep breath and steels himself before heading inside. The pub windows and doors are all thrown wide open but it’s still sticky inside as George pushes past people all congregating in groups, and George thinks he’s navigating his way to the bar but he honestly couldn’t be certain at this point. Eventually he spies Matty’s curly head and Matty seems to spot him at the same time because he raises a welcoming arm towards George and beckons him towards them.

Amongst his nerves George can’t help but notice how _good_ Matty looks, in fact George is starting to wonder if Matty could possibly ever look bad. He’s wearing a white floral blouse that’s unbuttoned enough to see his chest tattoo, and the tightest jeans George has ever seen on a man. He’s so fucking pretty, his eyes bright and his smile wide, that George doesn’t really know what to do with himself.

‘George, you came!’ 

George shimmies his way towards the small group all gathered around the bar, most with pints already in hand. George contemplates if Matty has told his friends about the circumstances in which they met, deciding on yes, because that’s just what Matty seems to be like, he wouldn’t feel any shame in admitting what they got up to, not like George would.

Matty claps a warm hand on George’s shoulder and George gives off what he hopes is a confident smile towards the group of unfamiliar faces.

‘Guys, this is George, George, this is the guys,’ he gesticulates towards everyone and a tall guy with short cropped blonde hair rolls his eyes.

‘We have names, Matty.’

Matty rolls his eyes in response and shakes his head as a slightly older looking guy with a very tall quiff chimes in.

‘Our Matty has no manners, George. Have you gathered that yet?’

‘Alright, alright,’ Matty giggles. ‘The sarky blonde one is Adam, that’s Ross and his boyfriend John. The other sarky one is Nick, and that’s his boyfriend Harry who works with me at the gallery,’ He points at each in turn and they all give him smiles and nods and George thinks distantly that Matty’s friends are all really fucking attractive, and how is that even fair?

‘Nice to meet you, mate,’ Ross smiles. ‘Can we get you a drink?’

‘Oh… you sure? A whisky and soda, thanks,’ George gives Ross a warm smile as Ross plants a kiss on the side of John’s head and weaves his way closer to get the barman’s attention.

‘So, how do you two know each other?’ Inquires the guy George is pretty sure is called Harry, he’s wearing a hideous pink and white polka dot shirt and is tucked against the side of Nick who's already smirking a little bit, like he’s already guessed _exactly_ how George and Matty met.

George’s cheeks flush because he’s never really been any good at this kind of thing. Whenever Jamie or anyone asks him about his sex life he normally just shrugs, saying something along the lines of ‘I get by’ because that’s the truth. He gets by, and it’s not perfect, he definitely knows that… but he’s fine. He’s absolutely fine. Except when he’s not, when the lonely nights get too much and he has to suffocate his sorrows in a haze of chemicals and strangers with nimble hands and hot mouths in reclusive corners.

‘We met last night,’ Matty says simply, though there’s a glint in his eye that makes George feel hot and cold all at once, wondering if Matty keeps thinking about it as much as he has.

‘I bet you did,’ Nick cackles, and Matty hits him hard in the arm, earning a faux hurt look from Nick. ‘Oh, come on Matty, you’re never this fucking coy. I know more about you and your cock than I care to if I’m being quite honest.’

George can’t help but laugh at this, and when Matty sees that George isn’t offended he visibly relaxes and just shrugs his shoulders.

‘I’ll leave it up to your imagination then, shall I, Nick? If you know so much about me and my cock.’

‘Here you go, buddy,’ Ross pats a hand on George’s shoulder, offering him his drink which George takes gladly with a nod of thanks.

‘Right, now that we all have a drink, I wanna make a speech,’ Ross grins, taking a deep drink from his pint.

‘Oh, hop off, Ross, don’t be a twat,’ Matty groans, covering his face with one hand, while the other gently settles on George’s hip, like he almost wants to anchor himself to George And oh how George longs to reach for Matty’s hand, but a rigid fear inside his chest stops him so he just stands still, eyes on Ross, waiting for him to speak.

‘Shut up or I’ll just say mean shit about you,’ Ross scolds, rolling his eyes fondly. ‘Right, so Adam and I have known Matty since we were tiny babies in year 7 at school, and I can tell you now that he’s even more annoying now at twenty-seven than he was age eleven…’ Ross pauses and Harry shouts ‘too fucking right!’ and causing several other people near the bar to glare disapprovingly at them before turning back to their drinks.

‘But anyway,’ Ross continues, grinning. ‘Really, mate, we know the last year has been really rough on you, and we’re all really proud of you for getting through it, we love you so much… however, if you come back in a few years with a fucking Californian accent then we will have to drop you from the group immediately, okay?’ 

‘Bitch, I am this fucking friendship group,’ Matty retorts, followed by a sniff, his grip on George’s hip tightening ever so slightly.

‘Shut up,’ Ross says bluntly, but his eyes are still crinkled in a smile ‘Honestly, Matty, we love you okay, you better not go making better friends out there… though I’m not going to miss you spilling wine all over my sofa or crawling into bed with me and John when you’re shit-faced.’

‘You loved it,’ is Matty’s reply, albeit shakily, before he lets go of George and flings his arms around Ross in a tight hug, he’s standing on tiptoes to reach and suddenly everyone’s piling in on the hug and George feels himself being gathered in so that his face ends up pressed into the top of Matty’s curly head. He breathes in slightly, noticing that Matty must have washed his hair after he left George’s because he smells fresh like berries, the hairs tickling George’s nose.

They all pull away after a few moments, and George feels so achingly sad when he sees that Matty’s eyes are slightly red from crying, he feels hopeless that he can’t do anything. He gives Matty a small smile which is returned but it doesn’t reach Matty’s eyes.

‘Right, enough of this soppy shit, who wants shots?’ Nick calls and the guys give a cheer, though Matty and George stay silent.

**

It’s safe to say that George feels a little bit left out, he’d been included in the rounds of shots bought by Nick and then by Adam but while Matty became the life of the party while inebriated, George found himself becoming more introverted. Matty’s friends were all perfectly lovely, but he still can’t help but feel like an afterthought, and no one really seems particularly interested in sparking up conversation with him, that is until Nick sidles up to him, a glass of red wine in hand and a grin on his face.

‘George, my love… is our Matthew being a terrible chaperone?’

George laughs a little awkwardly, shaking his head as he sips his beer, propping himself up against the bar with a vantage point of watching Matty gesticulate wildly to the rest of the group. ‘Nah he’s okay… he’s just having a good time, I don’t really know why he asked me here if I’m honest… I’ve only known him a day.’

Nick raises an eyebrow at that and sips his wine. ‘I think you might be the first, you know?’

‘First what?’ George is confused, his brain addled from mixing drinks over the last hour.

‘The first since Mikey… Matty’s ex… fuck, of course you don’t know about him, why would you know about him,’ Nick is tripping over his words and he looks a little worried, like he’s divulged some massive secret that wasn’t his to tell.

‘He’s mentioned him in passing,’ George says slowly, intrigued to know if Nick is going to tell him more. He finds that he wants to know everything about Matty, and he just knows that this isn’t the kind of thing that Matty would bring up, especially since Ross eluded to a rough year.

‘Fuck, okay right… I shouldn’t really be telling you this, Matty would actually kill me, even though he’s leaving tomorrow so he’d have to put it off for a couple of years anyway,’ Nick prattles, and George can tell he’s already completely wasted already.

George nods for Nick to continue, sipping his drink while his eyes wander back over to Matty again, he’s got his arm slung around John’s neck and he watches John’s cheeks flush as Harry goes over and kisses his cheek while Ross pouts and Adam laughs. He feels warm watching the interaction, the way they are around each other is refreshingly open, and George only wishes he could feel that at ease while in company.

‘So… Matty and Mikey were dating for like four years or something,’ Nick starts, his eyes also looking over at Matty and the group before continuing. ‘I think they went to the same school or something but didn’t really know each other that well because Mikey was older, I dunno how much but I know he wasn’t in Matty’s year, I can’t remember how they met but Matty was smitten instantly and I’d never seen him get like that before, and I’ve known Matty since he was eighteen. If I’m honest though, the group never liked him, he was always fine with us but we always got the impression that he was looking down his nose at us… just because he was some hot shot finance guy who worked in Canary Wharf. He was pretty manipulative and clingy… but Matty seemed happy enough so we all just kind of left them to it… hoping that he’d come to us if there was anything bad going on,’ Nick trails off, huffing a deep breath like he’s about to say something that’s going to cause him unease. 

George casts a quick glance back over towards Matty who’s now back to talking animatedly and George aches for something he can’t place.

‘Anyway, just before Christmas last year Matty confided to me and Harry that he’d been texting a guy called Cameron who’d given him his number at the gallery, nothing bad, they’d just been talking about art and music and whatever. He said that Mikey was getting angry quite a lot, that work was stressful and he used to come home from work all riled up and ready for a fight… so obviously we told him to be careful, and Matty being Matty just shrugged it off and said everything was fine. But then one day Matty left his phone in the living room while he was showering, and he gets this text from the Cameron guy, and I think he’d put two kisses at the end of the text, even though the text was something meaningless really but Mikey saw it… so Matty gets out of the shower and Mikey confronts him about Cameron and the texts, starts screaming at him…’ Nick pauses for breath and George notices that he’s been holding his, his heart thudding in his chest because he thinks he knows where this story is going.

‘Now I know you don’t really know Matty that well but trust me on this, he can give as good as he gets in an argument, so it turns into this screaming match… but then, Mikey gets Matty around the neck and he just starts going for it, he punches him, kicks him…’ Nick swallows and downs the rest of his wine, like he needs the dutch courage to continue speaking.

‘Matty shows up at Adam’s door at like one in the morning, his face a mess, he can hardly walk and he was just mumbling to himself, right… so Adam takes him to A&E. Mikey had broken Matty’s nose, cracked four ribs, two black eyes, concussion…’

George feels sick, all the booze he’s drunk over the last few hours threatening to repeat itself on him as he stares at Nick in utter disbelief. George is about as violent as a butterfly but right now he could kill this Mikey cunt with his bare hands for daring to touch Matty like that.

‘Fuck,’ George says quietly, almost inaudible over the loud background noise of the bar.

‘Yeah… but Matty is well shot of Mikey now, when he got back from hospital a few days later Mikey had gone, taken all his stuff, and no one has even heard of him since, so good fucking riddance.’

George just nods in agreement, his stomach still churning. He catches Matty’s eye across the bar and Matty gives him such a blinding smile that it contrasts so heavily with the mental image of Matty all broken and battered currently cemented in George’s mind.

‘Mikey is the reason Matty is going to America, if you hadn’t guessed that already,’ Nick explains, placing a hand on George’s arm. ‘And if I’m being honest we’re all a bit surprised that he’s still going through with it.’

George frowns, and asks why, downing the rest of his beer now that his stomach has settled a little bit.

‘Well… he applied for this course about a month after everything happened with Mikey… he said he just wanted to get away from London, forget about everything and start over… but look at him, he’s happy again now, he has a good job, good mates…’ Nick pauses and looks at George, as if he’s thinking about how to phrase what he wants to say. ‘And you… Matty has never invited his hook ups to gatherings before, he’d been with Mikey for about six months before we all met him properly, so you must have made quite the impression on him.’

George can’t help the smile that creeps onto his face then, because Matty has made quite the impression on him too, and it’s turned his whole fucking world upside down in the space of twenty-four hours.

‘He’s great,’ is what George supplies to the conversation, and Nick gives him a knowing glance.

‘He’s very charming, our Matthew… I think everyone has had a bit of a thing for him at one point or another… even Adam, and he’s straight.’

George laughs, running a hand through his hair, he doesn’t know what any of this means but for the first time in George’s life, he’s happy to just go along with things, deciding to forget, even for a little while, about the fact that Matty is leaving tomorrow.

**

Another hour passes and George finds himself sinking his fifth beer, leaning against the bar. Nick and Harry left a while ago as Nick has work in the morning but Matty is still laughing and joking with Ross and John, and Adam is chatting up some pretty girl with curly ginger hair in the corner of the bar. George is happy to sit and people watch, somehow knowing that Matty would join him at some point, he wouldn’t have invited George along if he was just going to ignore him all evening.

And as if by magic, Matty is by his side at the bar, draping an arm over George’s shoulder and leaning on him slightly. He smells fruity and George’s mouth waters a little bit.

‘Hey,’ Matty grins, propping his chin up on his hand as he leans on the bar.

‘Hey,’ George laughs, loving the feel of Matty pressed up against his side, the warmth emanating from the smaller man in the heat of the crowded bar. His eyes wander over Matty’s face, stopping on his mouth as Matty’s tongue darts out to quickly lick over his bottom lip. George’s mouth goes dry and a wave of arousal crashes down on him, and he wonders if Matty has any other plans for them that evening.

‘You look like you want to kiss me,’ Matty says, the statement hanging heavy between the two of them.

‘I do,’ George admits, his heart racketing against his rib cage.

‘Do it then,’ Matty says, his voice dropping an octave, his breath ghosting over George’s lips, and it feels so intimate in this crowded room that George feels goosebumps erupt on his skin. Their hands are resting on the bar and George feels Matty’s thumb gently run over George’s little finger, only increasing the goosebumps tenfold.

‘Not here,’ George says, his voice thick because he wants to, he wants to so badly that the nausea he felt earlier comes descending back down on him. He wishes more than anything that he could just let go of all his inhibitions, that he could cup Matty’s cheek and kiss him, feel the lines of Matty’s body pressed up tightly against his.

‘Do you wanna get out of here?’ Matty asks quickly, his eyes darting towards the door, and George nods so quickly he gets whiplash. He’s feeling selfish, he wants Matty all to himself for as long as he can have him.

So they leave, without even saying goodbye to Ross, John and Adam. They both stumble out into the night, and thunder cracks overhead as they laugh, almost tripping over their own feet. The air is thick and humid, and normally George would hate this kind of weather but it fits his mood, and Matty is grinning at him the entire time they wander away from the busy street, still teeming with people despite the fact that it’s almost midnight.

‘Your mates are really nice,’ George grins as they walk side by side, a couple of spots of rain starting to fall gently, splattering the tarmac as they come across a deserted kids playpark.

‘They are… I don’t think deserve them sometimes.’

George frowns. ‘Don’t be daft, of course you do, they obviously think really highly of you.’

Matty nods, almost in defeat, leaning against the children’s play castle, his eyes glinting as they look up towards the sky, the rain starting to fall heavier now. George eyes the way that Matty inhales deeply, a small smile settling on his soft features.

‘I love that smell,’ Matty sighs, his white floral shirt quickly becoming almost translucent with the falling rain drops. George relishes how nice the rain feels on his skin, it hasn’t rained in weeks.

‘What smell?’

‘It’s called petrichor,’ Matty explains as George moves closer to Matty, leaning back against the playground equipment, his shirt now completely sticking to his skin, his damp arm pressed against Matty’s. ‘It’s the smell you get when it rains after a long period of dry, hot weather.’

George grins at the smaller man, deciding that the word petrichor is a very Matty word.

‘You’re just a fountain of knowledge, aren’t you, Matty?’

‘Big brain, lots of book smarts,’ Matty snorts, running his fingers through his increasingly wet hair, pushing the curls off his face. George’s fingers itch to touch.

‘You’re so beautiful,’ George blurts out before he can stop himself, his eyes dropping to the floor. Matty doesn’t say anything so George shuts his eyes, almost certain that Matty would be able to hear how fast his heart is beating. He feels Matty curl his little finger around George’s and something blooms inside his chest.

‘If I’m so beautiful, why haven't you kissed me yet?’

‘Because I’m scared.’

‘We’re all scared,’ Matty says quietly. ‘I’m petrified, but it shouldn’t ever stop you from doing what you want.’

George looks up to see that Matty is staring at him intently, it shoots through him like electricity and he lets go of Matty’s hand, his eyes darting around the park to check that they’re truly alone before shifting so he can press Matty against the wooden backdrop of the park. 

‘You terrify me,’ George murmurs, and they’re both completely soaked through and George feels _so fucking alive_ for the first time in his life so he does it, he kisses Matty until he feels like his chest is going to burst. Matty is responsive, panting and eager underneath him, and George kisses him like he’s oxygen, and he kisses him, and kisses him, and kisses him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for they delay in the update, my laptop died so this whole chapter has been written on my iPad!
> 
> I’m so proud of this chapter and I hope you enjoy <3 I love you all so much for reading, you have no idea how much it means :)

They kiss that way while the rain comes down in sheets, pelting around them and soaking them to the core but they don’t stop. Matty has his arms around George’s neck and when George pulls away for air, Matty yanks George close again, pressing their foreheads together so their breath mingles, hot panting breaths that make George feel like he’s just run a fucking marathon.

‘That was worth waiting for,’ Matty says breathlessly, his voice a whisper that George can only just hear over the pelting rain. George leans forward again, biting gently at Matty’s protruding bottom lip and he tugs a little before pulling away. George’s body is thrumming with need, like he wants to consume Matty, to keep him close because deep down he knows that his time with Matty is so very fucking short. 

‘Wanna come back to mine?’ George asks gently, letting his nose brush lightly over Matty’s, his hands now cradling Matty’s bony hips and holding the smaller man to him.

‘If you’re gonna kiss me like that again I’ll do anything you ask,’ Matty giggles, sounding almost giddy, and George can’t honestly help himself when he kisses Matty again, feeling braver holding Matty than he’s ever felt before in his life. He pulls the smaller man close once more, relishing in the way Matty goes completely lax in his arms, like he trusts George to hold him up, to keep him safe.

George feels Matty shiver against him and he closes his eyes so he can savour every single sensation, drinking Matty in, trying to capture every part of him. The way Matty’s body fits so perfectly against his own, the way he tastes faintly of cigarettes and something fruity, the soft noises he makes, and the way he says George’s name, breathless and soft into his mouth.

‘C’mon,’ George breathes out, breaking the kiss and reaching for Matty’s hand. ‘We’re only five minutes from my place.’

Matty weaves their fingers together and George’s yearning heart leaps in his chest because the George of twenty-four hours ago would be so caught up in his own head about being caught, about what people would think, yet here he is dragging this beautiful man through the streets, their fingers intertwined, and it’s like George doesn’t have a care in the world as long as he’s with Matty. 

**

Matty gets George pressed up against the dirty glass wall of the lift as it slowly climbs its way up fourteen flights, mercifully empty due to the time of night. Their chests are pressed tight together and Matty looks up at him, something unreadable in his dark eyes as he leans up and brushes his lips almost delicately against George’s.

‘You keep going on about how beautiful I am… but have you even seen yourself?’ Matty asks softly, and George feels a deep flush settle on his cheeks because no one has ever called him beautiful before. He’s been called hot, fit, sexy… but never beautiful, and George knows that has to mean _something._

‘Especially when you blush like this…’ Matty continues, letting his fingers caress where his lips had settled moments earlier. George’s brain can’t quite keep up, but he’s about to say something with the lift pings indicating their arrival at George’s floor.

When they step inside George’s flat it’s almost as if the mood shifts completely, and for some reason Matty looks shy as he stands in George’s hallway, looking like an adorable drowned rat, his shirt sticking to him like a second skin. George giggles a little, shaking his head also aware that he probably looks just as bad.

‘I think I’d be a terrible host if I let you stay in those clothes,’ George grins, extending a hand out to Matty who smiles gratefully and takes it, following George into his bedroom. 

Matty hovers in the doorway as George roots around in his drawers, extracting a clean pair of boxers, an old white vest, and a spare towel for Matty to dry himself with. George is a little worried that Matty is being so silent, he didn’t think he’d ever conceive that Matty could be nervous, but he seems it now as he slowly peels his wet clothes off, hesitantly draping them over the radiator as to not let them make the carpet wet. George’s eyes wander over the expanse of Matty’s bare skin, and his stomach does somersaults as Matty slides George’s boxers up his skinny thighs, to find they’re way too big for him, George lets out an involuntary snort.

‘Shut up,’ Matty giggles, pulling the vest on in an attempt to hide how the boxers are almost sliding down his hips. He picks up the towel and rubs at his hair roughly and George busies himself with discarding his own soaked clothes, letting them fall to a heap on the floor. George decides he’ll deal with it later, pulling on his boxers and shirt from earlier.

Matty’s hair looks impossibly fluffy once he’s stopped towel drying it and George grins over at him, Matty returns the smile this time.

‘Yes, I know, I look like a poodle, not a word about it.’

‘My lips are sealed,’ George says seriously, making a zipper motion over his lips.

‘I was gonna offer you a beer but I’m not really in the mood anymore, do you want a cup of tea instead?’ George asks sheepishly, aware that by saying that sentence he’s aged himself by about thirty years.

Thankfully Matty nods eagerly and doesn’t say anything, and as George moves past Matty to head towards the kitchen, Matty grabs George gently by the wrist and presses his lips to George’s sweetly, almost innocently. The kiss only lasts seconds but it still hits George like a punch to the gut because if anything, a simple gesture like that means more to George in this moment than if Matty had dropped to his knees in front of him.

George gives Matty a shy smile as he moves past him into the kitchen, and he hears Matty pad softly towards the living room as he turns on the kettle and grabs two mugs. Leaning his hands on the kitchen counter, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath because if he’s being honest he’s getting in way too deep here. He really shouldn’t be getting so comfortable having Matty around, but here he is in George’s flat once again, wearing George’s clothes, and moving around George’s space as if he’s been doing it for years. He wonders what’s going on in Matty’s head, is it the same for him? He thinks back to the conversation he had with Nick at the pub, the way that Nick had expressed confusion as to why Matty was leaving now that he’s finally happy again, Nick’s vice echoes in his mind, _’you must have made quite the impression on him…’_

The kettle boils and George makes hasty work of filling the mugs before turning and rummaging through his cupboards, for some reason feeling like he needs to provide a biscuit or something to go with the tea. _George Bedford Daniel, stop being a fucking fifty year old man,_ he scolds himself, shutting the cupboard forcefully once he realises that, for the second time that day, he has nothing really to offer Matty. 

Tea made, George walks carefully into the living room, he overfilled the mugs a bit and it’s a precarious walk, however he stops with a jerk, boiling water spilling over his hand as he sees Matty, or more importantly, what Matty is holding. Matty doesn’t notice George standing there staring at him, he’s leafing slowly through one of George’s notebooks, a small frown is furrowing Matty’s brow and George’s stomach sinks.

‘I’d prefer it if you didn’t read that,’ George mumbles, placing both the mugs down on the table and blowing a little on the patch of skin burnt by the hot tea.

‘Fuck… I’m sorry, it was just on the sofa and I sat on it by accident, I didn’t… fuck… I didn’t even think…’ Matty rambles, shutting the notebook and looking up at George, his eyes full of concern and confusion. ‘What… what is it?’

George sits down slowly next to Matty, rubbing his hands over his face, reminding himself that this is exactly why he doesn’t like letting people into his life, it’s too messy, and he hates trying to have to explain himself.

‘Whenever I sleep with a guy… I write about them,’ George says quietly, taking a sip from his tea. ‘Like… I never find out anything about them, sometimes not even their names so I make stuff up about them, it makes me feel better about everything.’

Matty looks up at him, his eyes full of sadness and it tugs at George’s heart because he knows that Matty is pitying him now. He places a hand on George’s knee and gives it a squeeze before picking up his mug, looking at George over the rim.

‘You write about people’s coming out stories, why is that?’

George just shrugs, looking away from Matty, eyes focusing down on his lap. ‘It interests me… I didn’t have parents to come out to so I sometimes think about all the different reactions that people might have had when they came out to their families and stuff.’

George leans back on the sofa and Matty shifts so he’s sideways on to George, he lets his feet rest in George’s lap and George instinctively lets his hands rest on Matty’s ankles, his fingers running over the ink there.

‘You haven’t written about me,’ Matty states, he tries a small smile to show George that he’s not being critical, just interested. George swallows.

‘I didn’t think it was appropriate.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because you’re still here,’ George says quietly, liking how the soft hairs on Matty’s ankles feel underneath his fingertips.

Matty just looks at George, head cocked to the side a little bit like he’s trying to work George out, like he’s a particularly difficult equation. George feels awkward for the first time around Matty, because if he’s telling the truth he had planned to write about him, but not in the same way that he’d written about the rest of them.

‘Do you wanna know how I came out to my parents?’ Matty asks, leaning over to set his mug down on the table. ‘I mean it’s not particularly groundbreaking or anything but I guess it’s kinda funny?’

‘Funny?’ George asks, never having really considered that someone’s coming out story could be considered funny in any way.

Matty nods eagerly. ‘Yeah, okay so I was sixteen, and I’d known I was gay for probably around a year at that point, and there was this guy I fancied at school called Dom, he was pretty much the only openly gay guy at school at the time that I knew of. Anyway, we were partnered together for this project for English, I _know_ , it’s so fucking cliche…’ he pauses for breath, giggling a little bit, the sound tugs at George’s heart. 

‘Yeah, anyway, he comes round after school so we can do this project thing on Hamlet, and one thing leads to another and suddenly we’re both shirtless and I’m on top of him with a hand down his jeans… and then my mum walks in!’

George snorts and rolls his eyes, shaking his head as Matty nods, grinning, his eyes alight with happiness at making George smile.

‘What did she say?’ George asks, sipping his tea, still letting his fingers gently run over Matty’s ankles and feet, his eyes never leaving Matty’s.

‘She went bright red, probably more embarrassed than me, she didn’t say anything but later when Dom had gone home she just said that if I needed money for condoms she’d give me some,’ Matty’s voice cracks and he starts to properly laugh then, collapsing back on the sofa as his body shakes with giggles. ‘And later when my dad came home from work I told him and he was just like oh, that’s great, son, what’s for tea?’ Matty does a broad Newcastle accent when imitating his dad, and that sparks George’s interest.

‘Is your dad a Geordie?’ George asks and Matty nods. ‘My whole family is up north, I came down here when I was eighteen for university, I still can’t believe that Ross, Adam and I all ended up at the same university.’

‘What did you study?’

‘Art theory… it was fun, but I wish I’d actually done something more creative, that’s why I’m going to America… the art scene in California is supposed to be sick, like young and cool, not like London…’ Matty trails off when he notices that George is frowning. George wants to mention that he knows all about Mikey, but he doesn’t want to drop Nick in it.

‘I know Nick told you about Mikey,’ Matty says before George even has a chance to open his mouth. ‘I saw you two having a serious conversation, and I know what Nick’s like when he’s had a few, he doesn’t know how to shut the fuck up at the best of times, but it’s worse when he’s pissed.’

‘He told me what Mikey did,’ George mumbles and all of a sudden it feels far too hot in George’s stifling flat so he gently lifts Matty’s legs so he can stand up, cracking open the window to let in any slight infinitesimal breeze. It’s still raining outside and that smell fills the room. _Petrichor._

George settles back down next to Matty on the sofa, Matty has his legs crossed now and George longs to feel his skin under the pads of his fingers once more, but he settles his hands in his lap, a weird nervousness churning in his stomach at the serious route the conversation has now taken.

‘He fucked me up really bad… and I spent a long time telling myself that I deserved what he did, I shouldn’t have been texting that guy behind Mikey’s back, but I’ve only just started to realise, with the help of the guys, that I did nothing wrong, the texts were innocent, and Mikey was just a cunt,’ Matty’s looking down at his hands, and George sees that they’re trembling. He reaches over and takes Matty’s hands in his, wanting to ease his discomfort in any way that he can.

‘I’d fucking kill him,’ George mutters, Matty giving him a sad smile in response. 

‘That was Adam’s reaction when I showed up on his doorstep… it’s fine though, America is gonna be so good for me, I love London but it has too many shitty memories, and I still live in the flat I shared with him, I just need a clean slate.’

George feels sick, he feels like he can’t breathe, the close air is suffocating him and it’s like he’s forgotten how to speak, and Matty just looks at him, like he knows George needs to say something.

‘Won’t you be lonely?’ George finally gets out, his hand on top of Matty’s suddenly feeling clammy as his heart pounds. He hates talking about feelings, he fucking hates it. Hates himself for letting Matty get to him like this.

Matty shakes his head quickly, then shrugs his shoulders, at the same time as lacing his fingers together with George’s, and George just wishes Matty would let go because his body is betraying him, and the idea of Matty knowing how anxious this is making him is making him _more_ fucking anxious!

‘Why would I be lonely?’ Matty asks. ‘I’ll make friends on my art course… I’m gonna be renting a room from this couple out there, I’ll be fine.’

‘Have you ever been alone, Matty?’ George’s voice comes out much louder and more forceful than he intended but he can’t believe how blinkered Matty is being about this whole thing.

‘Of course I have,’ Matty retaliates, looking annoyed now. ‘I live on my own now, I have done since Christmas.’

‘No, that’s not what I mean,’ George argues, pulling his hand away from Matty’s now because he’s starting to get angry. ‘I mean really, truly fucking alone.’

Matty looks confused, like George is speaking a different language, so he doesn’t respond. He has his fingers twisted in his lap, and there’s a loud clap of thunder that seems incredibly fitting for the mood the conversation has now taken.

‘What about your friends? What about your mum and dad? Have you thought about what it’ll be like when you’re stuck on the other side of a fucking ocean from them? In another fucking time zone?!’ _What about me?_

‘Shut up, George,’ Matty growls, his eyes now blazing with anger, his jaw set hard. ‘You don’t know anything about me! You don’t know what the last six months have fucking been like so how dare you even start on that shit!’

George takes a deep breath and holds it, trying to calm his erratic heart, anger not really being an emotion that he’s particularly used to, his carefully cultivated lifestyle doesn’t really require anger but of course Matty has thrown all of that up in the air, and George really doesn’t know what to do with any of this intensity that he’s suddenly feeling.

‘You’ve never even been in a relationship, so you can’t possibly know how it feels when the person you love betrays you like that, you don’t know anything!’ Matty’s face is red with anger now but he still looks so small, sitting there in George’s clothes that drown him.

George’s fists ball at his sides and he stands up quickly, blood rushing to his head and making him feel momentarily dizzy.

‘Need a piss,’ he mutters, walking quickly towards the bathroom because his eyes are stinging and the last thing he wants right now is for Matty to see that he’s on the verge of tears. He yanks the bathroom door open and slams it shut, collapsing back against it and shutting his eyes, trying to even out his erratic breathing. His throat burns with the effort of keeping the tears at bay, and he feels so fucking stupid, stupid for opening his mouth, stupid for letting himself get so close. Why the fuck did he even go to the pub tonight? He should have just let Matty leave, but George is in way too deep now, he knows that.

The inevitable tears roll slowly down his cheeks and he presses the heel of his palm against his eyes to quell them somewhat. This is exactly why George has so steadfastly refused to get close to people, because people make you feel things like this, and George just doesn’t have the emotional capacity to handle it. The notion of going back out there to face Matty makes his chest feel like it’s seizing, that’s if Matty’s still there when George vacates the bathroom. The anger in Matty’s eyes is burned into George’s skull, anger that he’d provoked, and he hates himself for it because ultimately Matty is right, George had no place to comment on what Matty does, he’s known him for only a day…

George eventually manages to compose himself, splashing cold water on his face in an attempt to hide the fact that his face is blotchy and red from crying. He runs damp hands through his messy hair and heads back into the living room, his heart stutters momentarily when he sees that Matty is no longer sat on his sofa, but then he sees the smaller man, he’s leaning out of George’s living room window with a cigarette dangling precariously from his fingers, Matty’s sad eyes mirror his own and George aches.

George settles next to Matty by the window and Matty passes the cigarette over as a peace offering, which George gladly takes.

‘I’m sorry for yelling,’ Matty says quietly, his eyes look puffy, as if he’s been crying too. _Fuck, this is such a fucking mess._

‘No, I’m sorry for getting involved… you’re so-‘ George falters, taking a deep drag and holding it in his lungs, relishing the burn before exhaling into the stormy night air. George feels like there’s a storm inside him, like he’s being tossed by waves, left disorientated and lost, unsure and overwhelmed by everything.

‘I’m so what?’

‘You can’t let things go, can you?’ George chuckles softly, shaking his head as he passes the cigarette back over to Matty.

‘Some people would say I’m stubborn, but I prefer the word committed.’

‘Committed to being stubborn.’

‘Cheeky,’ Matty laughs quietly, it seems like he still can’t really bring himself to meet George’s eye so George does the only thing he can think of, he places his hand over Matty’s where it’s resting on the window ledge and gives it a squeeze, reassuring him that George isn’t mad at him.

‘You’re so brave,’ George ventures, and Matty audibly swallows beside him. ‘You’re so unapologetic about who you are, you know what you what… you’ve gone through so much shit, and you just make me fe-‘

Matty cuts George off mid-sentence with his lips pressed tentatively against George’s, and George wastes no time pulling Matty close, savouring the taste and feel of him, and committing every detail to memory. George wants to beg Matty to stay, but he can’t, it’s not his place, so he pours all his longing and want into the kiss, praying to any listening deity that Matty might change his mind.

When Matty eventually pulls away, his breathing coming out in short, soft pants, George catches the look in his eyes, reminiscent of earlier at the park, and that familiar wave of desire fills George up, it’s so strong he feels like he’s drowning in it. He drags Matty in once again and wastes no time in biting down on Matty’s bottom lip, licking inside his mouth, their teeth clashing messily in their desperation to be close to each other.

George sees himself fucking Matty up against the window, sweaty palms dragging against the glass as the storm rages outside, he feels lightheaded at the thought, and wonders if Matty is as affected by this as he is. It’s made apparent that he is a few moments later when Matty growls out, ‘God, George,’ his fingers starting to tug at George’s shirt. George shifts his arms up to allow Matty to remove his shirt, it falls to the floor and Matty’s fingers trace the planes of his stomach, George feels his muscles tensing at the touch and he shudders out a breath, feeling like he’s burning up from the inside.

‘Off,’ George grunts, tugging Matty’s vest off with ease, allowing it to join his own on the floor while he manoeuvres them so that Matty has his back pressed up against the window. Leaning down, George buries his face in Matty’s neck, eliciting a whine from the smaller man as George sucks below his jaw line, he wants to mark Matty, claim him for his own if this is the one and only time he’s allowed to have Matty in this way.

‘I want you,’ Matty moans, his face tilted upwards to the ceiling as George kisses and bites over the pale, sensitive skin.

‘You’ve got me,’ George murmurs, and oh how true that statement is. George’s tongue feels heavy in his mouth as he realises how hard Matty is, rutting up against his hip.

‘I want you to fuck me,’ Matty says in the same tone, needy and desperate and it shoots immediately to George’s cock, he shudders out a growl and presses his lips against Matty’s ear.

‘Say it again.’

‘I want you to fuck me,’ his voice is breathy and that’s enough for George to grab Matty and pull him up, half lifting him up. Matty cottons on quickly and wraps his legs around George’s waist, his hands tangling in George’s messy hair.

George’s head goes hazy as he carries Matty into his bedroom, throwing the smaller man down before crowding himself against Matty’s prone form and letting his covered cock drag slowly against Matty’s. The delicious friction causes George to buck slightly and Matty leans up wantonly, attaching their lips so George can swallow his moans. They’re both sweating already, the air in George’s flat is close and sticky and it makes everything so much better, George thinks idly.

‘George, please… I don’t want to wait anymore,’ Matty whines, and something about the urgency behind his voice makes George snap, he grabs Matty’s skinny hips and pulls his boxers down. Matty kicks them off and George presses two fingers against Matty’s swollen lips.

‘Suck,’ George instructs, and Matty eagerly opens his mouth. The involuntary groan that escapes George’s mouth takes him by surprise but as the hot heat of Matty’s mouth envelopes his fingers, the pent up desire that’s just bubbling under his skin breaks and George rocks forward, letting his restricted cock drag against Matty’s. And while he works George’s fingers like he’s gagging for it, his soft thighs parted, Matty’s eyes go glassy and wide, like he’s in his element just laying there sucking on George’s fingers.

Matty’s spit is dripping down George’s wrists by the time George removes his fingers with an obscene wet pop, and Matty stares up at George with his breathing coming out choppy and uneven as he raises his knees to give George a better angle.

‘Both fingers?’ George asks breathlessly and Matty nods quickly for which George is unendingly glad for because if he doesn’t get to fuck Matty soon he thinks he might die.

George makes quick work of opening Matty up, letting his fingers curl and drag slowly so that Matty is spitting expletives, his face glistening with sweat. George has never seen anyone so beautiful.

George’s neglected cock is hard as granite in his boxers and he presses a palm to it to relieve a little pressure but it doesn't make much of a difference.

‘Please, George, fuck me,’ Matty groans, his hips lifting off the bed. George relents and slowly removes his fingers. Moving up Matty’s body he kisses over the tattoo in the middle of Matty’s chest before attaching their lips briefly. He leans over Matty and grabs the lube from the table next to his bed, his fingers shaking a little from anticipation as he uncaps it. George hastily removes his boxers and pours a liberal amount of lube into his hand, slicking up his cock, the friction and the cold making him hiss.

‘You’re so fucking hot, fuck,’ Matty murmurs, his eyes dark as he watches George slowly stroke himself.

‘Coming from you,’ George says softly, shuffling forwards so he’s kneeling between Matty’s spread thighs.

‘Ready?’

‘God, yes,’ Matty groans, his eyes slipping shut as George slowly presses inside Matty’s impossibly tight heat. They moan in tandem and George grips Matty’s thighs with slick hands, his fingers digging into the pale flesh as Matty arches his neck a little, a blissed out sound escaping his lips. George takes this as an invitation to push forward a little more, his muscles tensed with the effort of controlling his movements.

‘Slowly, slowly,’ Matty gasps, and George stills instantly, the last thing he wants to do is hurt Matty.

‘Is it too much?’ He asks nervously and Matty just shakes his head, his eyes still closed.

‘No… I just wanna feel it.’

‘You’re gonna be the fucking death of me,’ George growls, slowly inching inside, his hair falling over his face, arms shaking with the strain.

Once George is fully inside he stops moving, allowing his forehead to press against Matty’s. Matty finally opens his eyes in the dim room, and as he does George feels it like a punch to his gut because Matty is looking at him with a word that can only be described as adoration. George has never felt closer to another human being in his life, and as Matty’s soft pants land against George’s parted lips, George knows that he’s _completely fucked._

George’s breathing hitches and he buries his face in Matty’s neck, because having Matty look at him like that is too much for George to take. His eyes sting as he starts to thrust slowly, Matty’s arms and legs slowly wrapping around him so George isn’t sure where he ends and Matty begins. Sex has never been like this for George before, it’s slow and intimate, there’s no urgency, and George is simply relishing having Matty in his arms, with Matty’s hands in his hair.

Matty lets out a long drawn out whine as George shifts his angle a little, obviously hitting his prostate. He speeds up a little bit and Matty is soon panting and gasping on every thrust.

‘George, god, yes… fuck,’ Matty whimpers, and George lifts his face up to get a proper look at Matty, and he’s shocked to see that there are tears leaking from the corners of Matty’s eyes but they’re juxtaposed with the blissed out expression on his face.

George slowly pulls out so that just the tip of his cock is inside before thrusting back inside so hard that his hips smack hard against Matty’s arse, and Matty all but arches off the bed, an almost feral noise filling the quiet room. George shoves his face back into Matty’s neck and continues to thrust like that, Matty’s body shaking and jerking each time George nails that spot inside him, he’s whimpering and gasping George’s name, and George knows in that moment that he’s falling in love with Matty. It shakes George to his core and his eyes and throat burn with the effort not to cry because it was never fucking supposed to happen this way.

‘Gonna come,’ Matty grunts and George manages to get a hand between them, wrapping it around Matty and jerking him twice so that he comes all over George’s knuckles, a loud cry of George’s name sounding like music to his ears.

George comes thirty seconds later, and he kisses Matty desperately as he comes down, his cock pulsing as the heat and pleasure overwhelms him and makes him swear he can see stars.

‘Oh my god,’ Matty mumbles a few minutes later, their breathing now returned to normal. George just nods, his revelation from earlier still ricocheting around his mind as he slowly strokes a sweaty piece of hair from Matty’s flushed face.

George feels like he’s completely lost the capacity to speak as he slowly pulls out of Matty and rolls onto his back, his clammy arm pressed up against Matty’s. He should feel elated, but his heart feels too heavy. Matty seems to notice that something is off with George and he frowns, rolling onto his side so he can look at George properly.

‘Is everything okay?’ 

‘Yeah… sorry, just a bit overwhelmed.’ _A fucking understatement_.

Matty nods slowly and chews on his bottom lip, his face and chest still flushed from his orgasm.

‘I had an idea, by the way…’ Matty starts. George swallows and reaches out, resting a hand on Matty’s chest, feeling the reassuring _thud thud thud_ of his heart. It momentarily grounds him.

‘You know you said you never got to come out properly… I thought, if you wanted, you could come out to me… pretend I’m your dad…’

George chuckles dryly. ‘Not really appropriate considering I just had my cock inside you, Matty.’

‘Forget that for a second… just, say it how you would have done,’ he has a small smile on his face and George trusts Matty implicitly, he knows that Matty is trying to help him, and it means more than George could possibly articulate. So George rolls onto his side to face Matty, and takes a deep breath, feeling a little stupid doing this, but he perseveres never the less.

‘Dad… I’ve got something to tell you.’

‘Yes, son,’ Matty giggles but then adjusts his expression to look serious, his eyes still glinting with laughter. 

‘Dad, I’m gay,’ the words feel alien on George’s tongue and he realises that he’s never actually said those words out loud before… when he came out to Jamie, he had simply said ‘I like guys’, never actually clarifying his sexuality, and it finally feels like a release.

‘Okay,’ Matty’s voice is gentle. ‘Well I don’t care who you love as long as you’re happy…’ he trails off, his hand coming up to rest against George’s hand that’s still stroking slowly over Matty’s chest. ‘I love you regardless, and I couldn’t possibly be more proud of you.’

George’s eyes close to stop the onslaught of tears but his jaw twitches, and suddenly his face is crumpling, and Matty is pulling him in and burying his face in George’s hair, rocking George slowly, despite their size difference.

‘It’s okay,’ Matty whispers once George’s sobs subside, but George stays quiet, because how can he possibly tell Matty that because of him, George doesn’t think he’ll ever be okay again?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the penultimate chapter, loves!
> 
> Thank you so much for all the lovely comments left on the last chapter :)
> 
> For some reason I found this chapter really tough to write, so I hope it turned out okay!
> 
> Please let me know <3

George wakes to bright sunlight streaming in through his window, having forgotten to close the curtains last night. He winces and buries his face in the pillow, his eyes stinging from lack of sleep as he groans into the soft material. After George had calmed down last night he had fucked Matty again, Matty still slick from before, he’d ridden George with his hands fisted in George’s hair, and George’s name on his lips like a prayer. Matty had eventually fallen asleep curled into George’s side, and George had simply watched him with a sad, numbing acceptance sitting heavily on his shoulders, finally falling asleep as the searing sun started to creep up in the sky.

George can hear Matty pottering around somewhere in his flat, and he sighs quietly because he imagines that his life could be like this, and oh how he wants that. He can imagine waking up with Matty every Sunday morning, and Matty could make him breakfast, maybe even teach George to cook those fucking quesadillas that he loves so much. George could throw out his notebook, and forget about everything that came before Matty, because Matty is all that matters now.

He thinks about Matty, alone in his rented bedroom on the other side of the world, making friends, going to bars with cool, arty types, throwing himself into his new life, and not looking back for a second. He thinks about Matty meeting some tanned Californian guy called Brad or Chad or something equally American, falling head over heels in love, and completely forgetting about that one hot weekend in July spent with a guy called George who fell for him so hard and so fast he feels bruised. It makes George ache right down to his bones because how is he supposed to go back to his old life after all of this? 

Rolling onto his back, George stares at the ceiling, visions of last night clouding his mind as he thinks of how perfect Matty’s body had felt all over him, taking up all his senses and leaving him weak and unable to think of anything else. How he’d cried, how Matty had cried too, and it has to mean something, George thinks, but he doesn’t know how to articulate any of this to Matty. Especially given how Matty has already expressed how he feels about George getting involved in what he does, so he decides to stay quiet, for reasons of self-preservation.

He’s just thinking about getting up, to join Matty in whatever he’s doing when Matty appears in the doorway with two mugs of tea, completely stark naked, a slightly melancholy smile on his weary looking face.

‘Morning, you,’ he says softly, carefully handing over one of the mugs. ‘You were dead to the world when I woke up, how long have you been awake?’

‘About ten minutes,’ George’s voice is croaky, his mouth dry so he takes a grateful sip of tea, not caring that it burns his mouth slightly in his eagerness.

Matty settles down slowly next to George and slides his legs under the messy covers, and it shouldn’t feel so familiar to George but it does. He lets his bare leg slide against Matty’s and they settle like that for a while, neither feeling the need to fill the silence as they both sip their tea. George tries his hardest to appreciate the tranquillity of the moment, but it’s so hard with Matty’s impending departure that he tries to not think about anything.

‘Wanna know something a bit funny?’ Matty asks after a while, and George is glad that Matty has broken the silence, he doesn’t really want to be alone with his thoughts right now, and whatever Matty has to say will be a welcome distraction from the ache in his chest.

‘Go on.’

‘We’ve spent basically the last forty-eight hours together, you’ve met my mates, and we’ve had sex twice… and yet I don’t even know your last name, or how old you are.’

George doesn’t find that funny, he finds it depressing as hell, but he decides to humour Matty, he doesn’t want their last few hours together to be moody and morose, no matter how much George wants to wallow in self-pity.

‘My name is George Daniel, I’m twenty-six years old, and I like long walks on the beach, and men in tartan trousers.’

This makes Matty giggle, and he places his empty mug on the table, turning to face George properly.

‘Nice to meet you, George Daniel, my name is Matty Healy, I’m twenty-seven and I like tall men with impossibly low voices and zero cooking skills.’

George grins at that and lets a hand come up and rest on Matty’s cheek, his thumb brushing slowly at the corner of Matty’s mouth. Matty leans into it and wraps a hand around George’s wrist lightly, pressing his lips to the pad of George’s thumb. 

‘All properly introduced now,’ George states softly, aware of the irony their situation presents, and Matty nods, now chewing on his bottom lip, a sign that George is starting to realise that means that Matty is nervous, or needs to say something.

‘I can’t stay too much longer…’

George swallows thickly. ‘What time are you leaving?’

‘Getting the 4:30 train from Paddington,’ Matty responds quietly. ‘I need to go back to mine and finish packing.’

The clock on George’s wall reads 9:15am, he has to be at Jamie’s for Olivia’s party at 2pm.

‘We have a little while…’ George pauses. ‘I’m gonna jump in the shower, do you want to join me?’

Matty nods quickly, without hesitation and George is pathetically grateful that Matty isn’t eager to leave just yet. He leans in and presses his lips to Matty’s softly, feeling the way Matty goes pliant, leaning into George’s body, like he’s magnetised to the younger man. 

And George supposes that he and Matty really are like magnets, opposing poles that have been drawn together by some undeniable force that neither one has been able to deny or control.

**

George adjusts the hot water, making sure the temperature is just right before stepping under the stream of water, Matty close behind him. It’s a tight squeeze but they just about fit, and George obviously doesn’t mind having Matty’s body close to his. As they both wash George’s mind wanders, and the longing he feels just to pull Matty into him and hold him close is almost overwhelming when Matty’s shoulder brushes against George’s soapy chest.

George takes a deep breath to try and calm himself down and he closes his eyes, tipping his head back into the spray of water, letting the soap suds circle the drain. When he opens his eyes, Matty has his back to him and George admires the way the wet ringlets cling to the back of his neck, and the compulsion to touch the smaller man is so strong that George allows himself to give in, for just one last time.

He wraps his arms slowly around Matty from behind, Matty’s breath hitching as George’s skin comes into contact with his. George’s chest presses up tightly against Matty’s back, and as he holds Matty he feels his resolve give way completely and he presses his face into Matty’s wet neck, hating the fact that this is it. When Matty is gone, this will be the last proper memory he has of him, and this thought alone causes silent tears to drip down his cheeks, glad for once that Matty can’t see his face.

‘I’m going to miss you,’ George mumbles quietly, half hoping that Matty doesn’t hear his confession.

George almost doesn’t hear Matty’s reply, the quiet ‘please don’t’ almost drowned out by the sound of the water. George nods imperceptibly against Matty, fully understanding that to talk of whatever this is between won’t help the situation, so George just tightens his arms around Matty and holds him that way until the water runs cold.

**

George rolls a joint with shaky fingers while Matty gets dressed in the bedroom. As soon as they had stepped out of the shower George had felt a powerful need to distance himself from Matty for just a bit. He can’t even explain why to himself, and Matty had even looked a little hurt when George had hurriedly dressed himself and escaped to the living room, mumbling something about needing a glass of water. He feels sick to his stomach, and he’s so fucking angry with Matty for no reason because none of this is Matty’s fault, not really.

He’s about to light up when Matty appears in the doorway, he looks small in his rumpled but luckily now dry clothes. His face is drawn and pale, and George realises now that Matty must be feeling this too, and George has been so fucking insular and self-absorbed that he didn’t stop to think that Matty is probably even more conflicted about this than he is.

‘I should probably be going,’ he says, his voice small, a far cry from his usual outgoing self.

George nods and stands up, his freshly rolled joint falling to the floor, the need to comfort Matty driving him as he takes quick strides across the room, pulling Matty tightly into him, realising that, at least for now, he needs to be the strong one. Matty presses his face into George’s chest and clings to George like he’s drowning. George squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face into Matty’s hair, he smells like George’s shampoo. He smells familiar, and he smells like home.

‘I…’ George starts to say as he pulls away, but he clamps his mouth shut before the words can properly escape. _I love you._

Matty just nods and runs a hand through his still damp hair, looking up at George.

‘I’ll see you around, George Daniel,’ Matty says softly, releasing his tight grip on George’s shirt.

George stays silent and walks with Matty to the front door, opening the latch, breaking the silence.

‘Good luck,’ the words feel heavy on George’s tongue.

‘Thanks, I’ll… I’ll text you, if you want me to?’

George laughs sadly and nods. ‘Yeah, I want you to, be safe. Okay?’

‘I’ll try,’ and with that, Matty is gone, his feet dragging as he heads towards the lift.

George closes the door quickly, too many emotions rushing through him at once. His fists clench tightly and it takes every single ounce of self-control that George has within him not to punch the fucking door. He rushes quickly to his bedroom window, wanting to see Matty when he leaves for the last time, because apparently George has become a sucker for punishment over the last few days.

It hurts, it hurts like nothing has ever hurt before in his life. And George supposes that he should feel glad, because even though the pain feels like it’s ripping George in two, he at least feels alive. Matty has made him feel more alive in two days than George had ever felt in the previous twenty-six years that have come before. George only now starting to realise that he never even got the chance to thank Matty, he wants to thank him for allowing George to become a part of his life, even if it had been painfully short lived. 

George leans forward to look out the window, finally catching sight of Matty’s retreating form, and when Matty looks up at George one last time, George doesn’t look away.

**

George is surrounded by couples and children, and he’s really regretting deciding against smoking his previously rolled joint before coming to Olivia’s birthday party. He really does love Olivia, however, the rest of the children here he honestly couldn’t care less about. He had considered telling Jamie that he was sick and couldn’t make it today, George would have been perfectly content to wallow in his sadness at Matty’s departure, but he’d eventually decided to be the responsible adult. He had also been hoping that being around people would help him take his mind off Matty, but that is apparently a hopeless endeavour, because if anything, this is all just making George miss Matty more. He feels completely alone in this over-crowded stuffy room, and he just wants to go home.

However, Olivia looks adorable, donning the mini denim jacket he’d bought her, Jamie had put it on her so that he could see if it fitted, and Olivia had insisted on keeping it on despite the fact that the heat is sweltering and George is already sweating through his loose vest and shorts. Jamie keeps casting him odd glances from across the room, and George is certain that his emotions must be written all over his face, he wishes he could feign happiness for the sake of Olivia, but he just can’t.

George takes a sip from his beer and casts a glance around the room. Everyone seems to be having a good time, the cacophony of children squealing, mixed with the mumble of adult voices allows George to just blend into the background, glad that no one has really tried to engage him in conversation. He pulls his phone out of his back pocket to see if Matty had texted him, but nothing. Not that he’d expected Matty to text him, not really, but there was that small part of him that was endlessly hopeful. 

Jamie catches George’s eye suddenly and raises his eyebrows, nodding his head towards the patio doors, and George gratefully stands up, awkwardly weaving his way through playing children. They emerge into the bright sunlit patio, and George can already feel sweat beading on his forehead as the sun beats down on them. He takes a deep drink from his beer before balancing it precariously on the wall, fumbling in his pockets for his cigarettes.

‘You’re being weirder than usual,’ Jamie starts, looking at George pointedly while George lights a cigarette, not meeting Jamie’s eye.

‘Rude,’ he mutters in response, but there’s no real meaning behind it.

‘Oh, come on, George, do you think I’m blind? You’re being mopey… I know a children’s birthday party isn’t the best way to spend a Sunday afternoon but seriously, you look like someone’s fucking died or something!’

George looks over at him now, weighing up the pros and cons of telling Jamie about Matty in his head quickly, and he decides to throw caution to the wind, this apparently being the theme of the fucking a weekend. A weekend of firsts all around.

‘I met someone.’

Jamie’s eyebrows raise in interest but George just shakes his head quickly.

‘Don’t get your hopes up, Jamie, he’s leaving for America tonight.’

‘What? Like on holiday? Can’t you see him when he gets back?’

‘He’s moving to America,’ George clarifies, inhaling deeply, letting the smoke give him a slight head rush before he exhales. He thought he’d feel better getting this off his chest, but it just increases the ache tenfold.

‘Ah, okay… how long have you known him? Where did you meet?’ Jamie asks, and George can tell that Jamie is slightly relieved that he’s opening up a little, because George never divulges anything like this to Jamie. Despite George knowing the names of every girl Jamie has ever shagged, George has never felt comfortable talking about his sex life.

‘That gay bar near me,’ George sighs, taking one last deep drag before stubbing his cigarette out on the low wall. ‘I met him on Friday… after I left yours…’ he leaves the sentence open ended because he can already pre-empt Jamie’s response.

‘Friday? As in… two days ago?’ Jamie looks thoroughly confused, and George doesn’t blame him.

‘I know it sounds fucking crazy, Jay,’ George says quietly, rubbing at his face while staring down at his feet. ‘His name is Matty, and he’s just wonderful, and I shouldn’t be so fucked up about him leaving but I am. I spent the whole weekend with him and I never managed to say how I felt, so now he’s flying out to LA tonight, and I’ll probably never see him again, and fuck-’ he breaks off, his voice cracking because he misses Matty so much and it’s only been a few fucking hours. Tears sting at the corners of his eyes and his throat aches from keeping the tears at bay. He doesn’t look up but he feels Jamie wrap an arm around George’s shoulder, giving him a squeeze. They’ve never been demonstrative in their friendship but it’s like Jamie knows that George really needs this right now.

‘It’s okay, mate,’ Jamie says gently, and a little awkwardly. ‘I’m sure he knows how you feel.’

‘But he doesn’t,’ George sniffs. ‘I couldn’t say any of it, and now I’ve missed my chance. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, and I’ve just fucked it, he’s going to leave without knowing how much I care about him because I’m a bloody coward.’

‘When’s he leaving?’

‘Tonight… he’s getting the train to Heathrow from Paddington at 4:30…’

Jamie glances at his watch then looks up at George.

‘If you left now you could make it to Paddington in time,’ he has a small smile on his face. ‘Go and have your cheesy Notting Hill moment with him.’

‘I can’t,’ George says with a small shake of his head, wiping the remaining tears from his face. ‘We’ve already said goodbye… I don’t want to go through it again.’

‘But you already said, this is so _he_ can know how you feel, you already know how you feel, dummy.’

‘Stop making logical sense,’ George mutters, his stomach doing somersaults at the thought of seeing Matty for one last time. Again.

‘Well someone has to in this friendship,’ Jamie says fondly, nudging his shoulder up against George’s. ‘Go on, I’ll tell everyone you were feeling shitty, and had to go home.’

‘Are you sure?’ 

‘Yes, go… good luck!’

George plants a kiss on Jamie’s cheek, and Jamie pulls a face, drawing a smile from George for the first time since Matty left this morning. 

**

George tips the Uber driver an extra tenner as he slides out of the mercifully air conditioned cab. He had decided against getting the tube because the last thing he wanted was to meet Matty all sweaty and dishevelled, and smelling of other sweaty Londoners.

A quick glance at his watch tells him he has just under half an hour until Matty’s train is due to depart so he makes his way quickly inside the station. He had briefly contemplated texting Matty to let him know he was coming, but decided against it, feeling like the element of surprise might mean more to Matty than some pre-arranged meet up.

He’s jostled by people from all sides as he enters the station, and George has never understood why everyone in London is always in such a fucking hurry all the time, especially when it’s this hot. His eyes glance around, and he starts to panic because it’s busy, tourists everywhere, and he’s scared that he’ll miss Matty in the throngs of people.

Walking up to the screens that announce platform departures, George continues to look around him, searching for Matty’s curly hair. The screen announces that Matty’s train will be leaving from platform 2, and his stomach plummets because what if Matty has already gone through the barrier? His skin prickles with sweat, borne from the stifling heat of the afternoon, and the abject fear that threatens to overwhelm him, but then, he spots him.

Matty looks irritable and sweaty, a rucksack slung over his shoulder and a large suitcase lagging behind him as he walks towards George, but not having yet spotted him.

George is about to raise a hand, to get Matty’s attention, but Matty beats him to it, and his eyes go wide before blinking several times, like he can’t quite believe what he’s seeing.

‘George?’ Matty sounds out of breath, and George can see the dark curls sticking to the side of his face with sweat, all he wants to do is reach out and brush the hair away from Matty’s face, but he refrains.

‘Hey… I’m glad I caught you,’ he despises how awkward he sounds. _I’m glad I caught you?_ What the fuck is that?!

‘Did you read it then?’ Matty asks, looking up at George with anxious eyes, he looks exhausted and strung out, and George isn’t even registering Matty’s words at this point. The buzz of the station momentarily drowned out as he gazes at the shorter man.

‘Read… read what?’ George’s confusion must be apparent on his face before the words leave his lips because Matty is already shaking his head.

‘Never mind…’ he looks like he’s struggling to find words so George fills the silence.

‘I had to come… there was so much I didn’t say earlier, and I couldn’t let you leave without saying them okay?’ George’s heart is pounding, and he still isn’t really taking anything in, and Matty is just looking at him warily, expectantly.

George takes a deep breath. ‘I just wanted to thank you, Matty,’ he says softly. ‘I know you’re leaving, and it’s pretty shit that I should meet someone that makes me feel the way you make me feel, for the first time in my fucking life, and then you have to leave…’

Matty is blinking rapidly, still looking up at George, like he knows that George has more to say.

‘I was so alone, Matty… and I just owe you so much, okay? I owe you so fucking much.’

Matty’s bottom lip trembles and he lets his suitcase clatter to the floor as he throws his arms around George’s neck. George holds Matty up as Matty starts to sob, his shoulders shaking, and he’s mumbling things against George’s chest that George can’t hear, and George aches.

 _I love you I love you I love you,_ George thinks in his head, repeating it like a mantra and hoping against all hope that Matty can feel it. He mouths the words into Matty’s hair as Matty’s breathing comes out loud and hiccupy. He pulls away from George’s chest, looking up at George with impossibly sad eyes, and George feels that magnetic pull once again, tugging him closer until he can’t stand it anymore.

He ducks down slightly and presses his lips against Matty’s, damp and salty with tears. George only intends for the kiss to be short, he’s feeling brave but not _that_ brave, but Matty has different ideas entirely. He digs his fingers into George’s face and holds him there, deepening the kiss so that George feels like his heart has stopped beating entirely. There’s so much intensity and pain behind the kiss that George feels powerless to resist when Matty licks into his mouth. George is distantly aware of someone letting out a loud wolf whistle and it causes him to pull away, now painfully aware of where they are and what they’re doing.

‘You’re gonna be okay,’ George reassures Matty whose face is buried in George’s neck once again, and Matty nods, pressing his lips to George’s neck one more time before pulling away.

‘I wrote you something by the way… in your notebook,’ Matty says softly as the overhead speaker announces the boarding of Matty’s train. ‘I thought the reason you came here was because you’d already read it…’ 

‘I’ll read it, I promise,’ George reassures, giving Matty a sad smile. His mind reeling because what could Matty have written in his notebook that could have possibly spurred George into coming to meet Matty here? 

He picks up Matty’s forgotten suitcase from where it had fallen to the ground. Matty takes it gratefully, allowing their fingers to brush for a final time before he turns and heads towards the gates.

George watches Matty leave, he feels drained, and as Matty walks through the barrier with some difficulty given the size of his suitcase, he waits. He waits for Matty to turn around, so he can see Matty’s face one final time, but Matty just carries on walking.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! We've reached the end :(
> 
> I really hope I've done this story justice because I love it so much.
> 
> Your comments have kept me going these last few tough months, and I love you all.
> 
> I hope everyone is still keeping safe, enjoy the last instalment, and I'm sure I'll be back soon! <3

The journey back to George’s flat goes past him in a blur. He doesn’t even register how hot it is on the tube, and he’s sweating buckets but he can’t really bring himself to care. All he wants is to read what Matty left him in his notebook. 

The lift in his apartment block has finally given up, probably due to the weather so George begrudgingly takes the stairs, and by the time he reaches the fourteenth floor he thinks that this may be what death feels like. His lungs and chest burn and he can hear his pounding heartbeat in his ears as his sweaty fingers fumble with his keys.

The heat is actually worse in his flat, if George thought that could even be possible, and despite how much he wants to read Matty’s words he prioritises opening all the windows, and grabbing a cold beer from the fridge. George is only now painfully aware, in Matty’s absence, of just how quiet and empty his flat is. Has it always been this empty? And George supposes sadly that it has, his flat being an almost continuation of his life, functional, basic, but really devoid of anything that made it feel like home.

The cold beer feels like a godsend as it slips easily down his throat, and even though George still feels like he’s burning up from the inside, it eases slightly. George spies his notebook sitting unassuming on his coffee table, a pen resting on top of it, and as George settles down on the sofa with his beer balanced between his knees, he feels that overwhelming nausea once again, because the words penned in his notebook feel like they might make or break George.

He flicks through the pages with shaking fingers until he finds what he’s looking for, taking a sharp intake of breath before he starts to read.

_Dear George_

_I don’t really know why I’m doing this in a letter format but I feel like people don’t write letters enough these days, and I guess it kind of fits the mood of what I’m trying to say… maybe._

_I’m writing this while you sleep in the other room. When I woke up, I desperately wanted to wake you up because I feel like any moment not spent with you currently is a moment wasted, but you looked so peaceful and calm, I couldn’t do it, so here I am. I’m spilling everything I want to say to you on paper, because I’m a coward. I wasn’t lying to you last night when I said I was petrified… my feelings for you scare me shitless, and part of me hates you for it. I know that’s irrational and stupid, I’m well aware of that, but it’s so fucking cruel that we have had such a short time together._

_I’m not sure you entirely realise just how special you are. You are the most self-deprecating person I’ve ever met, you’re gentle and unassuming, you save people’s lives for a fucking living and you don’t even understand how important that makes you. I’m not blind, I can see that you’re unhappy, and that you’re lonely, and people as wonderful as you don’t deserve to ever feel that way._

_I woke up this morning to a text from Nick, and do you know what it said? He said for me to hold on to you, he told me how you couldn’t keep your eyes off me, and to directly quote Nick, ‘he kept looking at you like he wanted to give you the world or some shit’, ever the eloquent one, is Nick. But this got me thinking, because honestly, that’s exactly how I feel about you. If someone had told me a week ago that I’d pick up this guy at a shitty gay club, and end up falling in love with them over the space of a weekend I would have straight up laughed in their face, but that’s exactly what’s happened. And now I’ve seen those words written down, it’s so true, George. I fucking love you and it’s so stupid. I am so stupid, I’m a horrible person because I suspect you feel the same, and yet I still have to leave._

_I know you won’t understand why, not really, but I have to do this for myself. I spent over four years in a relationship that I worked so hard at, just for the person that I loved more than anything to almost beat me to death. So I can’t rely on love, I can only rely on myself, despite how selfish that sounds, it’s true. I need this fresh start to prove to myself that I can stand on my own two feet, regardless of how fucking scary that prospect is._

_I hope you don’t hate me too much, and I hope you know that I’ll think about you when it rains. I’ll think about how you kissed me, because I know that it must have taken every ounce of bravery in you to do that. You’re one of the bravest people I’ve ever met, and I sincerely hope that you continue to be brave, because that’s all we can really do at the end of the day, isn’t it?_

_Again, I love you. I love you. I love you._

_Please don’t forget that._

_Matty_

At the bottom of the letter, Matty has scribbled out a short sentence, but George can just about make it out.

_Please come with me…_

The full implication of Matty’s words crashes down on George like a pile of bricks, and George’s fingers are gripping the notebook so tightly that his knuckles are going white. He now understands why Matty thought he’d shown up at the station, he must have thought that George wanted to come with him, and George can’t even begin to understand how much pain Matty must have been in when he realised that wasn’t why George had shown up.

George hurls the notebook against the wall with a force he didn’t realise he was capable of, he’s so angry, angry at himself, angry at Matty, angry at the fucking _world_ because how is any of this remotely fair? And George starts to realise with sickening clarity that he would have gone with Matty, had Matty asked. Fully knowing how mad it is, and being fully aware of the risks, George still would have done it, if it had meant being able to keep Matty by his side. He finishes off his can of beer and slams it down on the table with such force that it makes the flimsy piece of furniture wobble alarmingly.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and curses when he sees his phone is almost flat. Dialling Matty’s number with shaky fingers, not even fully sure what he wants to say when Matty picks up, but Matty doesn’t pick up. It goes to voicemail, and George finds himself becoming irrationally angry at the automated voicemail, that is until Matty’s recorded voice fills his ears.

_’You know what to do, fuckers. Speak to me after the beep!’_

‘Um… hi, it’s me…’ George pauses, pressing his fingers into the corners of his tired, scratchy eyes. ‘I read your note… I love you too, okay. So much… I don’t know what to fucking do, Matty I do-’ he’s cut off abruptly by his battery dying and George throws his phone to the floor, narrowly missing the table in the process. Letting out a loud curse he stands up, a wave of exhaustion hits George at full force, and he decides that a nap will quell the headache starting in his temples, and hopefully ease the aching pressure in his chest. Or at least allow him a few hours of blissfully empty darkness where he doesn’t have to think about Matty, or anything to do with him.

George listlessly undresses himself as he makes his way towards his bedroom, not bothering to pick anything up because really what is the point? It’s just him in his shitty little flat, and no one is going to really care if he picks his crap up or not. Now mercifully only clad in boxers, he’s just about to flop down onto the bed, ready for the oblivion of sleep to overtake him when he remembers something that causes him to stop in his tracks.

George’s heart is beating far too hard in his chest as he pulls open the door to his wardrobe, revealing George’s meagre collection of clothes… and the shirt that Matty left behind. He gently removes the shirt from the hanger and lifts the shirt up to his face slowly, hoping against all hope that it still smells like Matty, and not like all of George’s other clothes. And George feels his throat constrict as he presses his face into the shirt, allowing Matty to take up his senses once more. The shirt still smells like him, like cigarettes and cologne, and something distinctly Matty, and it makes George feel weak. He climbs on top of his sheets, Matty’s shirt still clutched in his hands, and as he inhales deeply, he can see Matty in his mind, like a snapshot, indelibly imprinted. The way he looked on Friday night, clutching his glass of wine and swaying to the music, his confident smirk and his bitten painted nails, his eyes dark with lust and need…

George comes with his face buried in Matty’s shirt, the coarse material stifling the choked out sob of Matty’s name.

**

George awakes with a start, his face still smushed into the fabric of Matty’s shirt. The room is almost dark, the sky outside a haze of purples and blues, casting an almost ethereal light throughout the room. He blinks, wondering what it could have been that woke him with such a violent start, but then a loud pounding on his front door answers that question for him. Standing up on wobbly legs, George almost staggers to his front door, his feet getting caught on the clothes he discarded earlier, and he curses as he knocks into the wall. The pounding on his door gets louder and more insistent and George glares as he fumbles with the latch, eventually getting the door open.

Before George can even comprehend who it actually is at the front door, they’re barrelling into his chest and wrapping their arms around his neck, and it takes a good ten seconds for George’s brain to register that it’s _Matty_.

‘Why don’t you answer your fucking phone?!’ Matty growls into George’s neck and George just blinks because this is surely a dream? Right?

George can’t seem to engage his brain and his mouth so he just wraps arms tightly around Matty and breathes him in. He doesn’t smell fresh by any means, but he smells like Matty and that’s enough for George, he doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of that smell. 

‘What are you doing here?’ George finally manages to ask, pulling away from Matty slightly so he can look the shorter man in the eye. Matty looks absolutely knackered, and he has dark rings under his eyes, he has a five o’clock shadow starting on his jaw, and he still manages to look breathtaking. His hair is tied up in a messy bun, curls spilling out and framing his drawn face.

‘I couldn’t do it,’ Matty mumbles, and he drops his eyes down, like he’s ashamed and doesn’t want to see George be disappointed in him, like George could ever possibly be disappointed in Matty.

George rests his hands gently on Matty’s shoulders, causing Matty to look up at him once again. George notices that Matty’s suitcase and rucksack are sitting forlornly in the hallway, and he realises that Matty must have come here straight from the airport.

‘You came straight here…’ George says faintly and Matty nods, picking up his things and pushing past George, allowing George to try and process what this really means. Matty closes the door gently, and leans against it, his eyes focusing on George once more.

‘You left me that fucking voicemail, and how could I leave after that? I tried to call you back but it just kept going straight to voicemail… I thought you might have done something stupid…’ Matty trails off and George’s stomach plummets at the insinuation. 

‘My phone died,’ George says with a kind of urgency, like he needs Matty to know that he could never do anything like that. ‘I forgot to charge it last night and I was in the middle of leaving you that voicemail and it-’

‘I need to hear you say it again,’ Matty says, cutting George off mid-sentence, and George understands immediately what Matty wants from him.

‘I love you,’ George says simply, and he surprises himself by how easily the words come out this time, all traces of fear gone now that Matty is in front of him. 

‘I love you too,’ Matty’s words coming out gentle but then completely juxtaposed with the force at which he kisses George, his fingers hooking behind George’s ears and pulling him impossibly close. It’s so fucking surreal to George, to have Matty in his arms once again, kissing him like he’ll die if he doesn’t, and George allows himself to be swept along, savouring every sensation. The way Matty tastes of stale coffee and cigarettes, the way his hair is a little greasy, and how he’s panting against George’s lips, breathy and needy.

George almost hoists Matty up, he feels breathless and frantic, not able to get Matty close enough to him, despite the fact that Matty is now draped over him, his chest heaving against George’s.

‘Oh fuck,’ George grunts, his fingers dragging up Matty’s back, damp with sweat, causing the material of his shirt to cling to his skin, which would be disgusting if George wasn’t so aroused.

Matty drags his lips away from George’s, his eyes glinting in the darkening room.

‘Fuck, I want you, please,’ he whispers and George gives in, staggering backwards a little as he attempts to right himself, pulling Matty along with him as he goes. The air is suffocating, and George’s head is swimming, like he’s drunk on lust, drunk on Matty, and drunk on the high he feels from having Matty close to him like this.

‘Yes, yes, okay…’ George pants, capturing Matty’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugging as he concentrates on yanking Matty’s vest over his head, and as it falls to the floor George abruptly trips over his discarded shoes from earlier, sending them both crashing to the ground. George lets out a groan, and it’s combined by a very manly shriek from Matty as they both collapse in a heap in the middle of the living room.

‘Fucking shoes,’ George growls, shifting so he can remove the offending article from under his arse. This makes Matty start to giggle, his head thrown back on the floor, one leg resting over George’s bare one. George props himself up on his elbow and looks down at Matty who’s body is now almost doubled over in laughter, and George feels a swell of love so strong that he surges forward and captures Matty’s lips in a kiss, swallowing down his laughter.

Matty giggles into his mouth but it’s soon replaced with a moan as George brackets Matty’s skinny thighs with his own, never breaking the kiss as his fingers go low to run over Matty’s stomach, the muscles jumping under the pads of George’s fingers. His skin is still damp and George has an overwhelming desire to lick every inch of Matty’s skin, eager to taste the salt on his tongue. His lips stray from Matty’s mouth, letting his tongue drag and teeth scrape against Matty’s stubbly cheek.

‘George,’ Matty whines, head tilting back, allowing George access to lick lower. His cock is aching in his boxers but ignores it, he has Matty to himself and he wants to savour every single inch of him. Letting his tongue brush teasingly over one of Matty’s nipples, George’s fingers dancing over Matty’s hips, tucking under the waistband of his shorts and boxers.

‘Don’t tease,’ Matty whimpers, pushing his hips up and George takes a second to look up at Matty. He looks wrecked already and George hasn’t even touched him yet.

‘You want me to fuck you right here?’ George murmurs, kneeling over Matty once more, careful not to crush the smaller man. He grips his cock, wanting to ease the pressure as he waits for Matty to answer.

Matty nods so fast that more hair springs out of his messy bun, falling against his flushed cheeks. George gazes down at him intently and Matty squirms below, pushing his hips up again towards George, like he’s begging silently for George to touch him.

‘How do you want it?’ George asks, enjoying this power play because he senses that he could probably get Matty to do whatever he wants right now, and that feeling goes immediately to George’s cock and leaves him reeling.

‘Rough,’ Matty grinds out, his tongue flicking out to catch a bead of sweat pooling on his top lip. George feels his self-restraint snap and his hands go to the zipper on Matty’s shorts, tugging it down with deft fingers, and he lifts his hips, allowing Matty to shrug his shorts and boxers off until he’s breathless and wanting underneath George.

‘Matty, you have no fucking idea,’ George mumbles, and he shuffles down so he can run his tongue along the ink at Matty’s hip bone, fingers now digging into Matty’s skinny thighs, holding him still as he savours how Matty tastes.

‘I wanna-’ Matty starts but it’s cut off by a loud moan as George runs the flat of his tongue over the tip of Matty’s leaking cock, his mouth watering at the taste. Matty’s fingers tangle in George’s hair and he lets out a loud whimper as George presses the tip of his tongue under the sensitive head, Matty’s hips jerking up involuntarily.

‘I want you to fuck me from behind,’ Matty finally gasps out, and there’s a deep flush to his face and chest now that makes George run hot and cold all at the same time. They haven’t fucked like that before and George would be lying to himself if he said that he didn’t like the idea of pushing Matty down and fucking him face down into the carpet.

‘Turn over,’ George says softly, shuffling back to allow Matty the room to move, and Matty complies without a word.

George hums appreciatively as Matty positions himself, arse in the air, legs parted a little. He squeezes his own cock through his boxers, aware that he’s leaking all over the material but he doesn’t allow himself the friction for long, too preoccupied with Matty and the small needy noises he’s making. He grips Matty’s arse cheeks and spreads them apart, spitting on Matty’s hole, and this alone has Matty whimpering, his hips moving forwards a little, though they’re quickly stilled by George’s grip.

Circling two fingers over Matty’s hole, George swallows slowly because Matty is so receptive to touch, and there’s already a sheen of sweat gracing Matty’s pale skin.

‘Put your fingers in me, please,’ Matty begs, and who is George to deny him when he’s asked so nicely? He slowly pushes two fingers inside Matty’s tight body, remembering how much he liked it like that before, and Matty lets out a grunted curse, causing George to still.

‘I can go get the lube?’ George asks, worried now that he’s hurting Matty.

‘No… I like it,’ Matty growls, and that’s _definitely_ an avenue to explore later, George thinks as he slowly slides his fingers all the way inside.

Matty immediately starts to push back onto George’s fingers which makes George’s cock pulse at how much Matty wants it. He leans down and presses his mouth to the soft skin of Matty’s arse as he fucks him quickly with his fingers. He can tell by the noises Matty’s making that this is just a formality, that he’s as desperate for George’s cock as George is to be inside him.

After a few minutes of fucking Matty relentlessly with his fingers he slides them out, because honestly George now feels like he might combust if he doesn’t fuck Matty soon.

‘I’m just gonna go get the lube,’ he says softly, pressing a wet kiss to the base of Matty’s spine.

‘No,’ Matty moans, his voice sounding a little muffled, and George frowns. ‘I like it a bit dry,’ his voice now sounds thick and George shudders.

‘Are you sure?’ George wishes he could see Matty’s face properly.

‘’Yeah, fuck… please.’

George’s heart is pounding in his chest as he tugs his boxers down, freeing his aching cock. He spits liberally into his hand before slicking his cock up, a little nervous because he’s never fucked anyone like this before, but he pushes the nerves down as he lines his cock up, letting the head drag and catch against Matty’s hole.

George groans at the same time Matty gasps, George’s sweaty fingers gripping at Matty’s slender hips. He wants to leave bruises, to see the stark contrast of blacks and blues on pale skin, so he can reassure himself that he has Matty, and Matty isn’t going to leave him any time soon.

George slides in fully on the first thrust, Matty had said he wanted it rough and while George doesn’t want to hurt Matty, that’s the last thing he wants, but he understands that Matty needs this.

George is proved right by the loud drawn out whine emitting from Matty from where his face is pressed into the carpet, his arms braced at the elbows to support himself. He stills inside Matty, trying to regulate his breathing, because Matty feels even tighter than before, if that’s even possible.

Matty’s hips twitch in George’s hands and George runs one hand slowly up the length of Matty’s spine, and Matty arches into it, letting out a shuddery moan.

‘Fuck me,’ he pants, twisting his head a little to the side so that George catches a glimpse of flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. His fists are balled so tightly his knuckles are going white. 

George complies. He starts to fuck into Matty in ernest, and George is overwhelmed by how fucking good Matty feels, griping his cock perfectly to the point where George knows he isn’t going to last long, and suspecting that Matty won’t either.

The slick sounds of skin meeting skin sound perfectly obscene to George’s ears, coupled with the noises that Matty is making he thinks he could fuck Matty like this forever. Loving the way Matty moans his name, the way Matty just keeps taking it, the way his entire body jerks every time George hits that spot inside him, and he loves Matty so entirely that he feels consumed by the intensity of his emotions.

‘Matty,’ he groans, fingers digging into Matty’s hips, his grip tightening to signal his impending release. Matty thrusts his hips back into George’s thrusts one more time, and then George is coming, his head falling forward as he fills Matty up. George’s thighs shaking with the effort of holding himself up.

Matty lets out a sob of pleasure and George pulls gently out of him, and in one swift motion rolls the smaller man over so he’s laying flat on his back. George leans down and takes Matty’s neglected cock into his mouth, and his cries sound hoarse as George starts bobbing his head. It takes less than thirty seconds before Matty spills down George’s throat, and George swallows him down, swallowing everything before pulling off.

Matty draws his knees up and George rests his sweaty forehead against them, his breathing coming out sharp and choppy, matching Matty’s who is staring at the ceiling, looking thoroughly fucked and blissed out.

‘You are an incredibly good shag,’ Matty laughs after a few minutes and George grins against the skin on Matty’s knee, shutting his eyes because he feels untouchable right now, the high from his orgasm having not quite left him, and Matty’s laugh sounds like music to his ears.

‘And you’re a kinky little fuck,’ George retorts.

‘Ooooh, and he’s feisty!’

George giggles and shakes his head, looking over at Matty who’s smiling broadly, his hair sticking to his face. Matty lets his thighs fall open so George can settle between them, pressing his lips to Matty’s gently.

‘You do know I have a perfectly good bed through there?’

Matty shrugs, inspecting his arms, the red carpet burn already apparent on his skin.

‘I like it… it hurts but it feels good.’

‘Like I said,’ George laughs. ‘Kinky… what else do you like that you’re not telling me?’

‘That’s for me to know and for you to find out.’

George grins at that and stands up on still shaky legs, getting a head rush as he rights himself. He looks down at Matty, still prone on the floor.

‘Need a hand?’

Matty laughs and extends his hand out and George pulls him up, Matty wobbles a little and he leans into George’s chest to steady himself, and George snakes his arms around Matty, despite the fact that they’re both a sweaty mess. George presses a kiss into the top of Matty’s head, shocked by how easy intimacy is with Matty, and that in itself speaks volumes.

‘Oh lovely,’ Matty groans and George blinks out of his reverie.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘I can feel your come running down my legs,’ Matty squirms and George just snorts.

‘I can lick it up if you want?’

This earns a weak whine from Matty as he slaps George’s arm weakly.

‘Don’t say shit like that to me unless you want me to climb you like a tree all over again.’

George rolls his eyes and leads Matty into the bedroom, and as they emerge into George’s stuffy bedroom he notices Matty’s shirt laying crumpled on George’s pillow at the same time that Matty does.

‘My shirt!’ Matty exclaims, looking over to George who has a flush on his face that has absolutely nothing to do with sex or the heat of the room

‘Yeah,’ George coughs awkwardly. ‘You left it here…’ he doesn’t elaborate further as to why it appears like George has been sleeping with it.

Matty gives him a knowing smile but doesn’t say anything, which George is eternally grateful for, he simply picks the shirt up and lets it drop to the floor before sliding under the sheets. George joins him seconds later, and despite the heat of the room he pulls Matty into his chest.

‘Thank you,’ Matty mumbles softly, his breath hitting George’s chest.

‘What for?’ George asks, letting his fingers run over the ink of Matty’s forearms.

‘Loving me… reminding me that people are good. You’re so good, George.’

George doesn’t really know how to respond with words so he stays silent, his fingers moving up to trace gently at Matty’s stubbly jaw.

Matty’s soft snores fill the quiet room within a few minutes and George is quite content to just hold him, focusing on how Matty’s weight on his chest ironically feels like a weight has been lifted from him that he hadn’t been aware he’d been carrying for the longest time.

George is well aware that this entire scenario is mental, that there’s lots of things to sort out, but he can’t bring himself to care, because Matty came back because of him. 

Matty loves him, and even saying those words to himself in his head make George feel euphoric and so fucking _brave_.

**

The smell of cooking wakes George the following morning and George grins to himself, feeling giddy as he picks his way past their discarded clothes to get to the kitchen.

He pauses in the doorway because Matty is naked and whistling what sounds like ‘American Pie’ as he cooks. Sunlight is streaming through the window and George has never seen anyone so beautiful in his entire life.

‘Morning,’ George says, his voice still a little gravelly with sleep, and Matty turns around, a serene smile on his face, and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

‘Quesadilla?’


End file.
